Periphery
by j.jiang
Summary: What started as a substitute, brought forth by seeds of a King's impatience and doubt, turned into something more problematic once contracts were involved. And she's not leaving until she gets her share of the treasure. [KiliOC]
1. Beginnings

**Author's note: Hello everyone. This is my first venturing into this particular fandom, but after reading until my eyes burned, I decided to join in for a bit. Think of me as the shy new student standing nervously by the sandbox. I have no access to the book so I will be basing this is in the movie-verse, but I appreciate any and all comments and critiques. If anyone would like to help me along in this (point out my blunders), it would also be greatly appreciated. **

**Fellow note: I will limit author's notes in the future. Promise. :]**

**Disclaimer: I am a poor teacher living in rural China. I don't even own my TV, let alone The Hobbit. **

Twigs snapped energetically under his thunderous boots, but he paid little attention, his eyes instead trained on the surroundings. While the thick trees and dense underbrush certainly certified wilderness, his instincts felt little need for worry. Nonetheless, his hands moved purposefully at his sides, never more than a second's distance from the hammer on his back. Taking a pause, he studied the muddy ground. Another footprint.

Good, he breathed out some of his annoyance through his nose. Its fresh imprint in the ground meant he wasn't far off. He pressed forward through the tangled branches of the bush and paused. To his left, he heard the hiccup of a rope snapping and frantic thumping on the ground like a terrified heartbeat. He silently followed the sound. While feeling confident his search was nearing an end, he wouldn't risk an overconfident mistake.

As he walked past a large oak, the crouched figure slid into view. He tread carefully and circled to the figure's side. He could see the figure had a grasp on a large rabbit's hind leg, the remnants of a snare evident on the ground, and a simple, slick knife in the other. He waited silently as the figure finished it's murmuring and made a quick slash through the rabbit's throat. The fur matted into an inky darkness as the animal twitched. Blood smeared the figure's tanned hand as it moved to creak the animal's head back, widening the wound like cracking open a door.

He figured now was as good a time as any and cleared his throat. "I hope you're not thinking of skinning that thing here." The figure turned its head to him, an easy smile tilting the ends of her lips.

"You don't think the mud would add a nice flavor?" He didn't reply but a grunt, and she stood. "What can I do for you, Master Dwalin?"

She scooped down to grab the back legs of her catch. "Thorin requires your presence." Her fingers paused from their work picking dirt out of the rabbit's fur, and she peeked up at him, blatant incredulity splattered on her face. "Immediately." She didn't argue, only tied the listless hind legs of her catch and sheathed her knife.

"I am assuming you have a steed," she started back through the brush in the direction he had come from.

"Left him at the far path by the creek," he replied curtly. She could almost sense his unspoken resentment for trekking in to find her.

"I must retrieve my own, and it is, regrettably, at a different location." She did not offer this location and Dwalin did not care to ask. Just as he started to agitate under the idea of waiting for her, she continued, "Why don't you ride ahead and inform Thorin I will arrive? It won't be but more than ten minutes after you." He nodded, placated by this suggestion, and they separated as she turned east and disappeared into the brush.

The forest hummed and chirped with early spring melodies. While Dwalin would never consider the world to be safe, regardless of the lull from peaceful scenery, he knew that the forests the woman frequently trapped in rarely crossed with orcs or other nefarious creatures. While skilled with a knife, her job rarely required use of strategy or skill that would make her an opponent to even a lone orc.

Nonetheless, her game was often hearty and her pelts finely cut. And so she had ended up familiar to the dwarves of the Blue Mountain. Initially, she had ventured in to find sales, her previous posts exhausted of cash for her goods. While the dwarves were hardly giving her a warm, family welcome, they appreciated the furs to line their cloaks, and the meat met with great satisfaction. And so she transitioned from a woman, a stranger to be stared at, to nothing more than a common face. In some ways, seeing her carrying her wares to different merchants reminded him of Dale, when merchants from every road would peddle their goods. He stepped over a fallen tree and turned west. He walked through over-hanging brush to the creak gurgling like a happy dwarf babe. His horse stood near the tree trunk to which his reigns tethered him, and Dwalin moved forward gruffly. Thoughts of Dale always brought forth the festering rage of Smaug and his destruction. His lips in a grim, thin line, he mounted his horse. His mind only took solace in the knowledge of Thorin's pending embarkment to best the cursed monster and reclaim their home. The days to their departure seemed to pass with increased fervor and he could almost taste the excitement radiating from Fili and Kili when they had convinced their uncle to let them join.

Dwalin mulled as he stirred his horse into a hearty canter. As for why, only days away from their final hurdle to begin, Thorin had decided to call upon the trapper, he hadn't the faintest idea.

* * *

><p>Fili walked the halls of his Blue Mountain home proudly. Happily. And most definitely with a bounce of excitement. Torches lined the stone walls as warm, flickering sentinels. While it had not the wealth or splendor of Erebor—or so he was told—it was the home he knew and adored. That didn't temper his thrill when his uncle has finally given approval for them to join his quest to reclaim Erebor.<p>

He recounted his uncle's stubborn mantra that they were too young and too important to join—but mostly that they were too young, too green.

Only after their persistence groveling, and no small part of sulking, did they convince their uncle that they were capable young dwarves. A frequent point of theirs turned this accusation of youth on their uncle, saying their keen eyes would supplement what older members of the quest may be lacking. Of course they weren't thinking of old Balin or Oin's deafness what they argued this. Never.

Well, maybe a bit. A large bit.

He stopped as he reached the mouth of the hall and faced the open air whistling through the mountains.

"Fili," the blond tilted his head to see his uncle stand beside him. His stern blue eyes surveyed the expanse of scenery before them.

"Uncle," Fili replied with a nod of his head. His mouth itched for barely a second before he rushed out the tired question, "Has Gandalf come yet?" Fili was thoroughly eager to have a wizard joining their quest. His only gripe remained at the wizard's lack of consideration for their time. While they had taken him as a member of their company, they were forced to wait while he searched for their final party member. Fili wished, on nights he lay in his bed with anticipation prickling his veins, his uncle had simply picked the final member himself. At least then they could start.

Thorin betrayed no sign of annoyance except for the lingering, hooded look he shot at his nephew. Every day, the same question. He let out a breath much like a sigh. "No." His nephew let out a much more exasperated sigh.

"Does he not know the importance of time?" Thorin's eyes hardened on the distance, but he kept silent.

"I assure you, Master Fili," a voice broke behind them like a gentle and dangerous waterfall. "I most certainly do." They turned to see the grey wizard standing in the hall, leaning on his staff as if tired from a long walk. Or perhaps exasperation. "And if you understood its importance, you would not waste it wishing for the future. For everything comes precisely when meant to." He stepped forward and turned his eyes to the king, who remained silent and unyielding under his gaze. "I have found him."

Thorin nodded curtly. "Better we move elsewhere to speak of this." Gandalf agreed and the three of them turned back into the halls of the mountain. Thorin lead the way to his study, and they settled into either chairs or places around the room.

"Where is he?" Thorin cut straight as he stood behind his desk. The wizard pulled out his pipe and pressed his fingers together as a small flame ignited.

"A hobbit in the Shire." Thorin couldn't hide the indignant frustration while Fili sputtered.

"A hobbit?" His voice growled dangerously low. "You think a hobbit is fit to travel on such a quest as ours?"

"I will not play to your pride nor your prejudices right now, Thorin Oakenshield," replied Gandalf, drawing himself to his full height. "You have yet to even meet the lad and already you speak as if you know him." He gave the king no space to intrude. "I have searched for your final member, and you will find him in the Shire. Inform your men to travel hence. They will find his home by the mark I leave on the door." Gandalkf moved towards the door, and Thorin voiced his last question gruffly.

"The Shire is no small place to search for a small person." Gandalf turned to him.

"It is easy enough to find," he answered before the door closed behind him.

Barely two seconds passed before someone rapped sharply on the door.

"Enter," Thorin barked, clearly still disgruntled by the wizard's brusque appearance. Dwalin stepped in quietly.

"Did you find her?" Thorin asked, moving papers from his desk as if in search of something. Fili's brow knit in confusion as he looked over to Dwalin. Her?

"Yes. She is on her way." Fili turned his to confusion to his uncle. Obviously Dwalin would not feel any need to inform the youth of this female he'd been sent to find. "If I may ask," Dwalin paused. "Why did you send for her?"

A long pause stretched in the air like a quivering viol string. Thorin studied his comrade, his trusted friend, before returning to his desk.

"Gandalf has returned," he stated. Dwalin nodded silently. "He has found our burglar. We're to ride to the Shire. Gandalf will mark the door." His sentences came out curtly and without room for question. Dwalin asked none but one.

"Should we leave immediately?"

Thorin shook his head. His hands stilled as they closed around the thin leather envelope. Inside, he knew, rested the map of Erebor. their greatest piece and greatest puzzle. "No. I will head to the Iron Hills. Now that I have our final members, I will make known our quest to our kin. If they join, then we will have one more cause for celebration when we meet at the burglar's home." He looked up to Dwalin and Fili as he placed the envelope deep inside his coat. Dwalin appeared determined and satisfied, while Fili's face was scrunched by clear confusion and the barely suppressed desire to pester his uncle.

"Dwalin, inform the others to prepare. Those that answer the call should ride out in three days time for the Shire," said the king as he pulled his cloak over his shoulders and fastened it. Again, a nod.

Just as Fili thought his uncle about to leave, a quick, singular knock jerked three pairs of eyes to the door.

"Enter," Thorin commanded. Again, the door opened, only this time a woman walked in. Her steps quiet, quick and quaint, Fili could immediately recognize the stature of a human woman under her cloak. Her brown hood pulled back revealed a face he had seen around the villages and caverns of the Blue Mountains. He'd never spoken to her, but knew he wore a number of her pelts and their kitchen staff regularly bought game. Her skin was tanned while her unkempt hair was a high-lighted brown, both indicative of her time spent outside.

Immediately, she bowed to Thorin. Fili felt mild appreciation for her quiet respect as she waited for the king to speak. Noting the furrow of her eyebrows, it seemed she was as perplexed as himself and Dwalin as to her appearance.

"What is your lineage?" Thorin didn't bother with formalities towards the woman.

"Mostly human," she replied calmly. "Perhaps some dwarf considering my family's close proximity to dwarf kingdoms and my lacking stature." Fili felt his lips twitching up slightly at her own jibe. She may stand only a few centimeters taller than himself and certainly lacked the physic to compensate for her height. However, the idea of dwarf blood mingling in human veins made his stomach clench uncomfortably. Still, even she said it was only a possibility, not that she had any proof.

"Are you skilled with anything besides your trade knives?" Thorin gave no indication of his opinion but his gaze remained heavy upon her all the same.

"A bow and arrow," she replied. "Depends on what kind of skill you are looking for." She attempted a smile at the light joke but it faltered and fell at the lack of reciprocated amusement. She let out a shaky breath and continued in a more serious manner. "I am good with a bow and arrow—comes with hunting—but knives are my favourite. My uncle and cousin taught me to fight with them while my father taught me to hunt."

"What can you do?" She let her face display a second of honest alarm at his brusque question before shoving it aside.

"Track, skin. Living in the wild. Hiding. Many of the things that come with being a trapper." She shrugged subtly.

"And the skills you've acquired as a smuggler and thief?" Thorin shot back shortly. Three pairs of eyes widened.

"I-I-I don't—"

"Do not waste time, human," Thorin cut. "I have no need for your defense, and I am not concerned with your activites so long as they do not harm my kingdom or kin. As of yet, they have not so speak quickly, what skills have you?"

She sighed through her teeth. "Minimal workings of languages, knowledge of hidden paths and hide-outs. Smuggling routes. Access to medicines and goods otherwise hard to obtain." Or immoral, she added silently.

"The skill to pass silently." Though she thought the phrasing spoke of a question, it seemed none existed in his tone. She remained silent for a second as she thought of whether to dare a response.

Fili, for all his effort, couldn't help but strain and finally crack as he felt something like realization at his uncle's last sentence.

"Uncle, you're not thinking of joining her to the company?" Fili burst out. Talk of silence and stealth, of skills and weaponry made it sound as if his father searched for a thief. A burglar. But had they not just heard from Gandalf that a burglar awaited them in the Shire? Thorin silenced him with a steely gaze. Dwalin shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

"Tonight, a wizard will leave rom our settlement in the Blue Mountains. You are to track him without being sighted. When he rejoins our company in the Shire, I expect your report of his travels. This report must also be delivered without recognition of anyone but myself, and you are not to enter the residence until I have read its entirety." Noting the look of bewilderment on her face, he let out a sharp jibe, "use your smuggler skills for this, should you truly have any." This seemed to shake her reverie, and she physically tossed her head.

"Why should I do this? Do I get paid?" Fili stiffened at the rudeness in her quick words. Still, he harbored vein of disbelief, a bubbling, churning soup of confusion.

Thorin chose to return her question with one of his own. "Are you to say that right now, there are no incriminating items on your horse?"

Her lips pressed to a thin line before she replied lowly. "That would be little business of yours."

"Yet your horse stands on our lands right now, does it not? And as ruler, I would have right to search the contents," Thorin said simply. After a brief, heavy pause, purely for his benefit of letting her squirm while her mind reached for solutions, he added, "as it were, I have no intention of searching them." Another pause. "As long as you complete the task I have given you." Her shoulders drew back and stiffened.

"And if I take this task only to disappear?" Her eyes peered up at him through her bangs, her head dipped forward to give the full impression of her dissatisfaction.

"That is why all the goods upon the horse have been removed to safety within these halls." Fili could have sworn he heard something like a growl grating the back of her throat as it slid down into her stomach, swallowed. "Complete the task and they will be returned to you without further issue and you may return to whatever manner of life you lead. Disappear and they will spill your secrets. I doubt those you steal from would give you long to hide." He knew he had her pinned, as did everyone else in the room—including the woman. She lifted her chin and met him squarely, a silent hiss passing between her teeth as she tried to diffuse the tension and rage twisting her chest.

"Fine."

"Fili," Thorin called his nephew forward. "Get her a contract. Find her a room to wait for the wizard's departure and bring the contract to me once it is completed." His eyes tacked on the silent message: tell no one.

The woman kept her huff sealed behind her lips. A room to wait? It was barely mid-day and he had spoken of leaving at night. Was she to wait for hours in a closet for this wizard to leave? Yet she knew Thorin would not yield—especially given his apparent knowledge of her less-than-honorable second income. She wished he hadn't called her a thief, though. It's not like she stole, really. More…picked up things people left around. Glancing at the one he had called to escort her, she hoped he played some mercy in wherever he stuck her. As the dwarf stepped towards her and the door, she remembered a last minute courtesy and bowed to Thorin, albeit stiffly and with a glimmer of a glare.

The door shut behind the two with a click and Dwalin turned to Thorin. The King Under the Mountain was stepping his way around his desk.

"What exactly is all of that about?" Dwalin dared as Thorin neared the door. Dwalin followed the lead and headed to leave the room.

"A back-up plan," Thorin replied before he disappeared down the hall.


	2. Kindling

Disclaimer: I own my coat, and I am grateful for that. I do not, however, own any part of Tolkein's work.

* * *

><p>Turned out, Fili had been more than gentlemanly and, while perhaps disturbed by the revelation in her trades, had felt compassionately to a point. Their first stop had been to obtain a contract. Without an explanation, a stout dwarf had handed the contract to the woman, who had signed it without a word and handed it to Fili. His perplexed look didn't last long as he pushed it aside. Perhaps humans didn't care to read contracts the way dwarves did, he had thought. Or perhaps she had trusted the old, bearded dwarf to write a fair deal. She had smiled pleasantly enough at him when they had arrived.<p>

At that point, he had led her towards the stables. He had caught her peeking in at her horse only to see that, true to Thorin's word, all her packs and goods had disappeared from its back.

"Since the wizard must pass this way to leave," he had explained, "I thought the tack room might suffice. At the very least, you would hear him leaving." He had offered her something of a smile, and she had nodded in response with a small smile of her own.

And so she was sitting in the tack room, idling her time by polishing bridles and counting pieces of straw as they scattered the floor. Without any windows, she could only guess at the time. 'Ten thousand years,' she guessed silently, a grin ghosting her face. 'The entire world is dead, and I'm in a tack room, wiping horse saliva off bridles while I wait for someone who will never come.'

She moved from bridles to saddles to airing out blankets. At last she ended up crouched near the ground, one arm resting on her knees while the other lethargically moved pieces of straw across the floor. A cat. A person. Two people and a cat. The cat eating the person. The other person seeking revenge. A house falling on them. She pieced the strands together and started to build off the ground when she heard a noise passing the door.

"I assure you, Master Kili, I am completely capable of traveling on my own," a rumbling voice spoke impatiently just outside the door. Still crouching, the woman awkwardly scooted towards the door, straining her ear and efforts to stay quiet.

"Where are you going to, Gandalf?" a younger voice replied. It brimmed with curiosity more than anything else. "We do not set to the Shire tonight."

"And, fortunately, Master Kili, the schedules of wizards and dwarves are not always the same," the older voice replied. Wizard. The woman stood up abruptly. Her knees cracked in protest but she teetered forward to hear more. 'This must be the wizard to follow,' she thought. After all, how many of them existed? Certainly fewer in the Blue Mountains than all of Middle Earth.

She knew she couldn't immediately leave, not if she wanted to go unnoticed by a wizard.

The next words came out softer, as if the wizard felt compassion for his companion. "I shall see you soon in the Shire, Master Kili." She heard one pair of footsteps retreating before the younger voice called out. "Let me get you extra supplies at the least!" Before she could react, the door swung open, the corner of its wooden force nailing her on the left of her forehead. She stumbled back, cursing expletives in a river while both hands gingerly held to her throbbing forehead.

"Wha-?" The young voice stopped, and she squinted up at him from her hunched position. "Who are you?" She uttered another curse. Obviously, she needed to keep him quiet before the wizard wondered about the ruckus. It would be hard to track and avoid a person who was alerted to the presence of a strange human out of place in a dwarf's settlement. Trying to ignore the bruise leaking under her skin, she rushed forward with an excuse.

"Don't be alarmed, please. I only came in to return some tack I had borrowed at my last travel." This seemed to calm him as he studied her carefully. The woman was more fixated on the silence around them. No footsteps from a wizard coming to investigate. He must not be overly concerned about last words, she thought before turning her attention more closely to the dwarf. Unlike others, his beard barely reached past stubble, and his forehead did not yet have the creases of crushing stress and exhausting anger.

He seemed surprised but placated by the response, though not necessarily at complete ease. She snuck a foot back to put her straw house to shambles just in case he should survey the room.

"What's your name? You look familiar though you are clearly not a dwarf," spoke the dwarf carefully. She attempted an easy smile but worried it didn't quite convince him. Her mind worked furiously: tell the truth or lie?

"I am Eda." Before she could come to a decision, her name spilled out. 'I suppose the truth can't hurt,' she thought. "I often travel in the Blue Mountains to sell my wares." With a small smile, she pointed to the fur trim of his cloak. "For possible uses such as that." He glanced at it before back at her and his eyes sparked.

"You are the trapper with such excellent venison!" He exclaimed with happiness as if he had some of it freshly resting in his stomach. She smiled in spite of the desire to appear modest and nodded. "Did you come today to sell more?"

At this point, she felt the honesty best to end. "Simply returning some tack and finding some coin before setting on my way."

"And what direction will you travel next, if I may ask?" He kept the genial smile in place.

"Most commonly whatever keeps the wind at my back," she replied lightly. A shuffle outside the door and her heart skipped. Hastily, she tacked on a lie, "but I have business in the north. And I would like to visit my family now that the weathers are better." As the clip-clop of hooves faded, she felt her heartbeat steady. 'Even if it wasn't the wizard,' she thought, 'perhaps better safe to state an opposite direction.'

"Who travels with you?" She thought of the overheard conversation with the wizard and wondered if he was always this curious about others' travels.

"I left my last traveling companions in another town. I travel alone from here until the next time I meet others on the road." She enjoyed the treats of traveling with others—and the protection of added arms—but found it easier to meet and part whenever the paths so called. For his polite part, the young dwarf attempted to conceal his uncertainty. Rather than start on an issue of her own safety or female capacities, she returned his earlier question to him:

"And what's your name?" As she spoke, she took a step towards the door, giving silent indication of her intention to leave soon. He stepped to the side and let her pass.

"Kili." He bowed. "At your service."

"I shall try to save some deer for the next time I see you, Master Kili." She grinned, bowing and hurrying down the stalls to her horse.

"I think we've given him enough of a head-start, don't you think?" She softly laid a hand on her horse's pale nose while swinging the reins over his chestnut head. She grinned as he breathed in and out on her palm before breaking away and nipping at her clothes in search of an apple or treat. She pushed his head away. "Later." He followed at a lazy pace behind her, but they reached the open air and wooden path quickly enough. In the fading light, she read two horse tracks, a lightly-loaded wagon and four pony trails in the mud. Assuming he wouldn't ride a pony, she picked the freshest of tracks with her eyes. Moving to her horse's side, she easily swung into her saddle and set off.

* * *

><p>'Tracking a wizard could be harder,' she thought as she morosely trekked through mud, 'but it could also be considerably easier.' By the time she'd reached the first town, she knew the voice nagging her since she'd stepped out of Thorin's sight was right: the horse couldn't come. And so she'd left him at the house of a familiar friend in town, a frequent customer and former travel companion. He hadn't been thrilled at the sudden addition to his barn, but he also hadn't denied he could use the horse.<p>

The next few days consisted of following the wizard's trail from the trees. Not a drop of elven blood ran in her veins—that she knew of—but growing up with a family of trappers, blacksmiths and lumber workers in the north forests lent her to a childhood familiar with climbing trees. Even the scrapes of bark on her palms felt like welcome nostalgia. Such combined with the wizard, and, had it not been for the lack of her horse, she would have quite enjoyed the task. Even from afar, she could hear the trickles of his humming and every once in a while she would catch a spark somewhere in between the trees that sparkled like fireworks. He obviously did not feel any particular fear for his person. His constant pipe smoking also made it easier to track him. On day she discovered a clump of ashes on a tree stump. Next to it stood a shivering plant. He'd obviously pried leaves for his next round immediately after dumping the ashes.

At night, she alternated between tree branches and the half-hug of a hallowed tree-trunk or large roots. On a morning following one such night huddled in a tree, she woke at first dawn and set out to cracking her bones and setting her joints back in place. The fur lining her cloak kept her insulated against the chilled air, but it hardly substituted for a bed. She stood only to be greeted by a puff of smoke in the form of a bird diving into her face. It splashed across her nose, filling her throat with a short coughing fit.

"Now if I were tracking someone," she froze at the voice rumbling from the other side of her tree, "I would think such noise unwise."

"How did you discover me?" She tried to keep from sounding put out as she asked. It was harder to contrain her frustration when her sleepy mind realized she should have lied. Or at least tried. Her pride wounded and her anxiety shrilling at Thorin's threat should she fail, she crossed her arms in a last-minute defensive stance. For his part, the man chuckled. 'Suppose the pout wasn't a secret,' she thought as he took a deep inhale on his pipe.

"My dear, I had no idea you were following me," he paused with a distinct twinkle in his eye, "until the wind carried your snoring and sleep-chatter my way last night." Her head jerked back and her eyes widened. 'Well, that would do it, I suppose,' she tried to shrug it off. Snoring and the occasional mutterings didn't bother her too much—though they were a more embarrassing of downfalls. More or less, her mind teetered dangerously in anticipation of the wizard's next move.

She certainly hadn't expected the one he gave her.

"If you are feeling so inclined, you are welcome to join me in a small breakfast." He pointed with his staff down the path. He winked at her, "perhaps some fireworks?" She felt her face break into a smile. It grew to a light chuckle and she nodded, accepting his offer and following him down the path.

They neared his camp when she felt a pause.

"Wait, this is not the same camp you had last night." She distinctly remembered the wizard passing a fallen oak to take shelter in its shadow. The oak was not for another twenty meters, and she had doubled back to what she had considered a safe distance for rest.

"Yes, well, that particular camp proved less than desirable," Gandalf replied quickly. Something in his tone made the young woman think he'd encountered something embarrassing rather than scary, but she didn't pry. "I changed camps here late into the night. At which point, I realized I had a friend nearby." His eyes spoke of no ill feeling as he sat on a rock and gestured for her to join him around the dwindling embers. After a moment of rustling, he produced some bread and cheese along with some dried meat. She took it happily while he set about his own breakfast of whatever currently simmered in his pipe.

She waited.

"I feel it is not imprudent for me to ask, but why are you following me through these woods?" She swallowed her bite of bread and felt for a second time that week the question 'lie?'

"I am a tremendous fan of your fireworks?" She knew it was a half-hearted attempt, but felt it adequately saved her rear if Thorin ever came after her for spilling. Something in the wizard's genial nature had a hold on her defenses; hold meaning that they somehow couldn't find the strength to rise. A loud pop beside her ear snapped her from her reverie with the force of a warg growl and she nearly toppled over. A small dragon—or rather the semblance of a dragon as comprised of miniscule sparks—flew overhead before twisting and careening down towards their camp. It opened its mouth in a silent roar and Eda ducked her head as it shot past. In a last crescendo, it exploded into jets and streams of color, vibrant reds and golds sparkled down through the air like coloured snow. Eda laughed.

"Those fireworks?" The wizard pushed with a raised eyebrow. Her laughter crinkled to a smile and she shook her head. Her eyes still held the brilliant sparks of gold and her body seemed to shiver with amusement. It was enough to make the wizard smile a little around the end of his pipe.

"If I tell you, do you promise it stays between us for as long as I live?" He raised both eyebrows at this but nodded. It hardly seemed that such knowledge could really infuriate him more. The young woman was, while skilled, clearly not on a mission of malicious intent. She let out a long breath. "Master Thorin Oakenshield contracted me to track and report on your activities up until your arrival in the Shire." The wizard's lips pursed and his eyes narrowed at the embers of his camp fire. As if reacting to his welled anger, the embers glowed hot, flames sprouting like red seedlings.

"What a dwarf. Doesn't even trust his own companions," he muttered heatedly to himself. He continued as such for a few minutes, and Eda took the time to awkwardly munch on her bread. Truth be told, she would rather his gaze fixate on the flames than herself. She could only imagine how she might burn under such a look of frustration. At last he seemed to have spent out his anger and his eyes, more calmly, turned to her.

"Please don't tell him you know," she dared. The wizard noticed the pleading in her eyes and immediately pieced together the untold puzzle.

"What does he hold over you?"

She started to scratch her arm nervously. "S-Some of my jobs are…less than honourable." She stared at the ground between her boots then to the fire, now dying without Gandalf's fury. "He'll expose me if I fail or don't complete the task." Nervously, she chewed on the inside of her lower lip, trying to read the stranger's face. Against all hope, she held to the lingering wish he wouldn't push her for more. Smuggling wasn't exactly what she dreamed of doing when she was a little girl, but it had somehow fused to her travels and skills. And with a family working their bones into dust, she hardly felt comfortable turning away money she could send them. Her younger brother somehow got himself into scholarly pursuits, and her father eagerly recounted his success whenever she had a chance to return home. At the same time, her younger sister, at her last visit, had been with child and had gratefully accepted Eda's financial support.

Could she share these facts with a stranger? Well, yes, perhaps. Would she enjoy it? Not particularly. But if it came to guilting him to keep her failure a secret, she was willing to forfeit the pride and lay all her sins out in the sunlight.

"I won't ask any further, and you may resume your secret quest." She felt he spoke with something burning hidden under the humour. "On one request." Her heart beat rapidly and she nodded eagerly.

"Anything." He chuckled, swallowing the comment to perhaps secrete her willingness in the future. He leaned in close as if sharing a secret, and she scooted happily closer. Her ears waited with such anticipation she felt she could hear every chirp in the forest.

"You exasperate Thorin with details of my fireworks." She snickered and struck out a hand, which he took gently.

"Done."

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading. Please let me know whatever you think could be improved. :)<p> 


	3. In the Shire

Note: Thank you for the help, everyone. I will go back to review grammar and spelling-oh, the woes of poor English. :) This chapter is rather short, but I hope you enjoy it. I am still trying to get a hand on the dwarves for the next few chapters, but please tell me if you think I am straying pathetically.

I am currently stalking the URLs of OrisounAsh's story "The Longsword and the Bow" as well as "When Comes the Dawn" by BlueRiverSteel. You should join in if you haven't already.

Disclaimer: I am simply playing in Tolkein's sandbox. I own nothing but for the woman.

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><p>Eda held her palms to the fire's gentle flames. The nights felt darker and wary, so she and the wizard had agreed that a higher shelter seemed best. Gandalf, he had introduced himself, had left it to her to scout a location while he, for once, followed her. Whether he'd been lazy or offering her a chance to exercise—or prove—some skill, she didn't much mind. She'd trudged up the rocky path of a large hill and suggested they huddle in the shadows of the boulders. Gandalf had appeared to agree as he voiced approval of the overhanging brambles that would shield their camp from the sky.<p>

"Not that I don't love stalking you, Gandalf," she spoke with a drop of amusement. "But are you almost to your destination?" Her palms started to simmer as the heat layered on, and she flipped to the backs of her hands. It had been several days since he'd discovered her. While she did continue to follow him, he had invited her to breakfasts and dinners—as well as the occasional chat if he felt particularly bored for a spell. Despite herself, she would join him whenever he asked. Other than his easy charm, she felt it odd to track someone who knew you were following.

Gandalf chuckled at her words before nodding. "Indeed. Have you never been that you don't recognize when we are nearing the Shire?" She shook her head.

"I stay to the north mostly. My family lives in the forests outside a small town, and I always considered that my start—origin—of sorts. I go elsewhere when the job needs, but I've never had a job call for the Shire before." She shrugged factually, and Gandalf felt curious to probe a little further. If nothing else, he had uncovered the woman to be plainly honest in many of her words. Perhaps it was her time isolated that lead to such a quirk, but he found it refreshing after his struggles through the words of men, elves and dwarves.

"We are close. I would recommend tomorrow after breakfast, you stay hidden. Should some of Thorin's company happen upon us, I can't say they would hide your secret from their King." Though obviously a little put out at returning to the silly perch of tracking the wizard in 'secret,' she nodded her head once to show her agreement.

"And I was just beginning to adjust to your cooking," she teased.

"My dear, I am apt to remind you that you may be a skilled trapper with a wide health of herb knowledge," he paused and their eyes met, both twinkling. "But your skills as a chef are sorely lacking."

"Well, I have to be bad at something, don't I?" She quipped back, and Gandalf took a long draw on his pipe.

"Indeed."

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><p>Eda felt a surprising amount of sadness as she watched the wizard pull ahead in the morning. She stood by the remnants of their morning and watched him disappear behind tree trunks and thickets, listening to the sound of his horse's hooves before it was swallowed up by the forest symphony. As agreed, he had taken off to get a lead so she could resume her distance. A safe distance just in case someone happened upon them.<p>

At one point, over a mouth of cheese, she had tried pointing out that Thorin's dwarves had left later than Gandalf, and so they would be several kilometers behind. But a knowing smile from Gandalf and she had abruptly realized his meaning.

"You've been meandering there?" She had asked incredulously.

"All things arrive exactly when needed," Gandalf had returned before extinguishing the last embers of the fire.

So they continued through the day. Forests lightened and Eda could glimpse rolling hills of verdant green. When the forest ended, Eda stared in warm enthrallment at what she assumed was the Shire. Picket fences, gardens and round, wooden doors set in the ground. Part of her wanted to get off the road, even if Gandalf was too far away for anyone to claim he saw her, but facing the well-tended patches of rose-bushes and clean windows, she didn't have the faintest idea how to exactly go about hiding amongst hill homes. And so she stood, dumbstruck.

"Excuse me. Miss?" A door snapped shut, and she looked over to see a portly, short man striding over. Either distrust or curiosity wrote over his face, but she didn't look long enough to distinguish which. "May I help you with something?" 'Well, distrust, it seems,' she thought as she recognized the tune well enough.

"I am most sorry," she replied quickly, purposefully adopting a slightly higher voice than her natural one. "I had heard beautiful things of the Shire, and I was simply awe-struck." She smiled like she did when convincing someone to let her pass without inspection. It seemed to have a similar affect as the hobbit softened and his shoulders relaxed. "Praytell, you wouldn't know of a way I could get to a better viewing, would you? I am a traveling artist, and I would love to try and capture the serenity of your land. Only," she gestured to the road beneath her feet, "I wish to avoid doing so from this road." He gave pause, but she waited and played a hopeful, bashful look on her face. With a sigh, he pointed to his left and up.

"The Sackvilles are at market. You could go along their path to this hill-top." She beamed, almost earnestly, and bowed.

"Thank you, oh, thank you Master Hobbit." He shrugged and turned to his rose-bush as she walked off towards the empty house. In fact, the vantage point, which she had decided to take from what she assumed to be the the home's roof, did help as she searched to spot the grey wizard. In the low distance, she finally caught sight of his hat and staff. He stood in front of a home very similar to the one on which she currently perched. She couldn't tell what happened from the distance but knew a hobbit must undoubtedly be involved. Movement and a small figure appeared in view. It walked to the front post then hurried up the steps to the front door. Seconds later and it was inside, leaving Gandalf much alone at the fence. She watched as he strode up to the door. She expected him to knock but only saw him move his staff. As he turned to stride away, she thought she glimpsed a shimmer on the bottom of the door, but it was gone before she could find any certainty. 'At least,' she thought, 'I know where they will be meeting.'

But that knowledge didn't mean she knew what to do next. Somehow she was to get a report to Thorin without anyone knowing. Yet he did not say when he would arrive or how she could deliver this report. Her mind hummed and her mouth unconsciously followed suit.

"Hey! Who are you? What are you doing on my house?" The sound of a fence swinging shut and her eyes snapped back to the scene. Only a split second before her mind made the unanimous decision: run. She bolted for the hills.

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><p>Eda had spent the better part of her remaining daylight back in the shield of the woods. She had pilfered some parchment and a quill from an open window but sat at the base of a tree, a stick in hand as she tried ot think of how best to file a report. The obvious choice remained to simply write a recount of the wizard's travel, but she bulked at the idea for a multitude of reasons. Briefly, she had considered enlisting Gandalf to enchant the paper so it was burst into fireworks when opened—if he could do such a thing, she hadn't the faint idea—but such a report would undoubtedly lead to questions she couldn't talk her way out of. On the ground, scratched into the dirt, was her most recent draft. A rough map of their travels with accompany dates. She took liberty to invent stays at village inns to account for his meandering path, but otherwise, it was an accurate retelling.<p>

"Overlooking the part where he knew about me," she added to herself. "Now how to get it in front of his face and none other." She grumbled in her throat. "I could always shoot it at him," she mused, the stick scratching a crude arrow in the ground. Her boot erased it. "Might actually hit him." Another idea? Her growl grew, and the stick started haphazardly attacking the dirt in her frustration. Smuggling meant everyone participated. Which meant times and codes. Schedules. He had left her without the slightest idea of how or when to expect him. She sighed, already disliking the plan creeping out her brain. The only way to get him then, would be to stay the only place she knew he'd be.

"Right," she stood gingerly and spoke to no one. "How does one set about infiltrating a hobbit hole?"


	4. Unlikely Intrusion

Note: Rather short, but the following piece will be long and more dwarf-centered (less of Eda present). Thank you for reading. I have many more chapters written than what I have up, but I'm trying to pace myself to updating every three days. It's hard, though. :)

Disclaim: I disclaim everything. The words are mine, the characters are not. :) Except for Eda.

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><p>Bilbo Baggins felt a sharp spurt of annoyance at the gentle knock on the door. After his encounter with Gandalf, he had effectively sealed himself in his home, a hearty book in hand as he settled into a comfortable chair. That had been hours ago, and his mood was just starting to relax when he heard someone at the door. 'If it's that ruddy wizard, again…' he thought to himself as he set the book aside and strode to the door. A peek out the window showed him a brown traveling cloak, and his expression eased. Not the grey of the wizard.<p>

He opened the door, a flood of late afternoon sunlight welling on his hardwood floor. He blinked repeatedly and shifted, as if adjusting his view to what stood before him. The young woman was beaming at him and looking positively ecstatic in a way that made the Baggins immediately nervous.

"Uhm," he cleared his throat. "Good afternoon." She didn't say anything. "May I help you?"

"Oh, I'm so glad I found you!" She took a step forward but had not yet come past the threshold. Bilbo tensed ever so slightly as his eyebrows knitted in visible confusion.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe—"

"I'm so sorry I am late, but my mother's directions were of hardly any help in finding this place. Then again, it has been over a decade since she last visited. She clutched her hands in front of her giddy smile. "I'm so glad to have finally met you in person, Master S-Sackville!" She struggled to recall the full name the earlier hobbit had used. Bilbo felt his expression drop from his face.

"W-what? No, I think you are mistaken." He could see her teetering dangerously on his front porch, a hair's breath from stepping the threshold into his home. It felt like an impending invasion, and he struggled to get the words out as quickly as possible. "I am not a Sackville. I am a Baggins." He placed a hand to his chest before gesturing to the space before him, "of Bag End. You have the wrong person, I'm afraid." He started to close the door when he caught sight of her crumpled face.

"But my mother gave me the directions," she murmured, still trying to keep eye contact. He could see something of a map clasped in her hand. "I'm already tired and alone, and the travelers who helped me get here already continued on their way. They said I would find you here." The exhaustion tinting her voice was nothing to the desperation, and Bilbo found himself opening his door with a small sigh. His mother would never have approved turning away a lonely woman traveler for the sake of solace with his books.

"Would you like to come in for a short rest?" Her face lit with a sad, grateful smile and she took a hesitant step in. He led her to the hearth and offered her one of the chairs—though not his favourite chair. "Warm yourself by the fire for a bit, and I will find you something to eat." She opened her mouth to protest but he shook his head. "Just something small, so don't worry." He smiled lightly. "It won't be a burden." She shot him another grateful smile, and he nodded before briskly walking to the kitchen.

While clearly a human, she didn't tower over him the way he expected—meaning she was either shorter than average or his books had lied to him. Her hair was wrapped in a bun behind her head, and her bangs hung just over dark eyebrows. She traveled, he noticed with a surprise, in men's clothing, but perhaps that was safer for her. With her cloak drawn, he mused, she wouldn't give much indication of being a woman. He pulled out some cheese, bread and fruit and placed it on a plate next to a cheese knife, fork and napkin.

His own stomach grumbled at the delicious sight, and he reckoned his own dinner needed to follow. Once the young woman could decide where she would go from here. 'She certainly can't stay here,' he stated silently. His feet tread softly on the way back to the young woman only to find her dozing gently, her head dropped to the side. Shifting awkwardly, he cleared his throat, receiving no result, before setting the plate on a small wooden table to her right.

"Right then," he murmured, arms swinging at his side while he rocked on his feet. "Guess I'll get to that dinner." For a second, it seemed as if he would instead wake the woman, but seeing a faint trickle of drool at the corner of her mouth, he decided against disruption and turned back to his kitchen.

At the sounds of knifes and pans and a crackling stove, Eda opened her eyes. A palm hastily wiped the drool from her mouth and she took a quick peek around her chair. True to the sounds, the hobbit busied around. Occasionally, he would pass through the hall towards another room and return with an armload of some food. The sky peering in through the round windows was steadily darkening. and she waited until it seemed dusky enough before creeping towards the kitchen. If she had guessed correctly, she had just secured herself at least one night in the hobbit hole.

"Master Hobbit?" She heard his pan sizzling while a knife chopped something. She rounded the corner and he paused. "I am most sorry I intruded only to fall asleep." She produced a bashful look and he shrugged lightly.

"No worry," she saw him glance at the window to see the heavy sky and could've sworn he sighed. "I fear it's too late for you to be out traveling by yourself—much less when you do not know where to go. I have a spare bedroom you could use for the night and tomorrow I could take a look at the map and correct the directions to whichever Sackville you are searching for." She brightened and her eyes flashed a hazel colour in the light of his kitchen. He checked his pan and slid a fish into its center, happy with the crackle. He sprinkled some herbs before turning back to the woman, who eyed the fish warily. He grinned despite himself.

"How 'bout I show you the room and you can rest?" She gave a silent, energetic affirmative and politely followed him through the halls to the spare bedroom. He opened the door for her to reveal a sparse bed. Previously, it served as storage for his unsorted books, but he had gratefully cleared most out. A small chest stood against the wall and two hobbit-sized end tables partnered the bed. He lit a candle and placed it on one such end table.

"There are more candles in the table and there is a small light," he pointed up at a delicate, metal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. She entered and smiled wider-if possible.

"I forgot to ask, Master Hobbit." She turned to him. "What is your name?"

He blinked, having forgotten the propriety in all the surprise. "Uh, Bilbo." He cleared his throat. "Bilbo Baggins." She bowed.

"Eda, myself. A pleasure to meet you, Master Bilbo Baggins." Reminder of his fish prompted a quick response.

"Right, I will leave you to it, then." And he turned to hurry back to his dinner.

Hearing the hobbit back in his kitchen, Eda's own stomach grumbled, furious at her for leaving the plate of food lonely and untouched by the fire. 'Fruit,' she thought hungrily. A quick peek out the door told her the hall was empty, and she darted out on tip-toes. In some way, she knew she needn't be so secretive about moving about, yet she couldn't help it. Besides, she thought with a small smirk, it was like a secret quest. It reminded her of the times her sister and she would sneak around their home; always they tried to sneak up on their father, who seemed greater than a wizard or life itself in his ability to foil their attempts to surprise him. 'Perhaps that's where the tracking started,' she thought happily.

She made it to the food without problem, silently making a victorious speech of her triumph as she claimed the plate and held it protectively to her chest. A part of her knew to take it back to her room first, but the growl of her stomach demanded compensation. Just a bite, she thought as she ripped off a piece of bread and stuffed it in her mouth. Her eyes closed and a contented smile spread like soft butter. 'If all hobbits have food this exceptional, I might just move.' The next taste she didn't bother to tear and instead took a heaving bite. She chuckled as she struggled to rip away the piece—while soft on the inside, it presented a formidable crust.

It was at that moment that she heard a knock at the door. She stilled immediately, bread still hanging from her mouth and plate cradled in her hands. Only a second later and she darted from the room and back down the hall to her room. She could hear a chair scrape on the floor and soft footsteps towards the door through the crack she left in her door. She recognized the gruff accent of Dwalin instantly and settled in for a night of eavesdropping.

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><p>Happy Valentine's Day.<p> 


	5. Burglary

Author: And just as I said "every three days," I face a few days of potentially no internet access while I move about. So I'm going to post this earlier rather than later. There's very little Eda-only if you squint-but I wanted to try getting into the dwarves boots. Not everything about the woman, after all. Let me know what you think or what I could fix.

Disclaimer: This is just for fun, and I own nothing but the girl.

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><p>Thorin Oakenshield raised a heavy, purposed hand and struck the wood. To his lower side, Gandalf's mark glimmered like ink made of stars. The ruckus inside immediately quieted. He didn't bother to suppress the feeling of pride; clearly, they knew who must stand on the other side of the door. In the seconds it took for the company to reach the door, his mind flitted to the trapper. He'd not entirely forgotten to ask her name before leaving. Forgetting implied he had originally intended to ask. The dwarves who bought from and recognized her around their settlements simply called her by whatever adjective seems easiest. As her appearance is rather common, it often settled on 'northern woman,' or 'Lhun trapper'—in reference to her most frequently visited forest. Balin knew her name—as the wise dwarf seemed to know most everything—and so Thorin had left it to him to draft a contract. The contract that rustled somewhere in his pack. He had taken a brief glance at it upon Fili's delivery but found the signature nothing more than a close shamble of scratched letters. Had it not been for the witness signature, he would have thought she meant it as another attempt to escape. Speaking of escape, he glanced over the darkened scenery. Small circles of warm candlelight shone at him from the different hills and the moon peered into its reflection on the lake's surface. She had yet to make herself or her report known. The first was preferable but the lack of the second agitated him. The agitation washed from his expression as a warm light welcomed him.<p>

"Gandalf," he stepped inside, making to shed his cloak. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

A voice piped up in vehement denial while Gandalf closed the door. Thorin surveyed the dwarves surrounding them, filling the round doorways with their bodies, and smiled faintly.

"There is a mark," Gandalf explained to the short man. "I put it there myself." Gandalf raised a hand and gestured at the hobbit before him. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield." The hobbit turned to him, and Thorin let his attention scrutinize. It was still impressive to see something so closely resembling a man yet still smaller than himself. After all, dwarves were not known for their height. He stepped forward and crossed his arms.

"So, this is the hobbit." For just a second, they met eyes before he started to circle the hobbit, who seemed rightly perturbed by the action. "Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?" Such a well-bred, gentle response did not go unnoticed, and he continued on as if Bilbo hadn't even spoken.

"Axe or sword? What is your weapon of choice?" He found Dori chuckling in the doorframe, and, while feeling his own sense of pride at his apparent intimidation, his annoyance simmered deeply. Whatever possessed Gandalf to consider this hobbit as something or potential or import, he couldn't fathom a guess. But he felt confident that it would take only a matter of minutes before such a fact because apparent to everyone else, including the wizard himself.

"Well, I am quite skilled at conkers, if you must know," the hobbit faltered in his jesting tone. "But I fail to see why that's relevant." Bilbo shifted on his feet and Thorin drew himself up.

"Thought as much," Thorin answered simply. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." The comment went more towards his companions, a few of whom shared his sardonic humour. Without another word, the King Under the Mountain walked away from the hobbit and followed his men to the kitchen.

"Would you like some food?" Dori's voice popped up. "We still have some soup and bread left." Thorin nodded. For the most part, the company was silent in the short trek to the kitchen. As he neared, Thorin heard Dori's voice mingled with a high-pitched female tone.

"Mister Baggins, do you have other company tonight?" He turned to find the hobbit several paces behind their group. Gandalf was hunched beside him and both wore looks of surprise.

"W-what? No. I mean, I have a friend staying just briefly on her way, but she's been sleeping in the spare room…" Thorin turned back and strode into the kitchen. Immediately, he recognized the human stature as it hunched over to help Dori assemble a bowl of warm soup.

He cleared his throat and both figures turned. The woman stood a full head taller than his tallest dwarf. Her pale skin glowed in the candlelight but he glimpsed her narrow eyes widen at him from under heavy eyebrows.

"Oh, oh, I'se sorreh," she dribbled out. "I just came to return me dishes and I run into Mister…" she looked to Dori for his name.

"Dori." She smiled feebly.

"Yeah, yeah." She looked back at them and courtsied awkwardly. "I'll head off now," she anxiously skirted the group—for which some of the dwarves seemed affronted—and disappeared down the hall. Dori raised the tray upon which the bowl rested.

"Some soup, sir?"

Thorin pushed away the hint of a smirk and sat down. Were it not for the fact that he had been waiting for some sign of her, he would never have recognized the signs that the trapper had just passed by. He sat down to the bowl of soup when his eyes snagged on the napkin carefully wrapped around the spoon handle. Carefully, he slipped the spoon from its sheath. To all others in the room, their murmuring chatter covered it, but his ears picked out the sound of rustling. Something other than napkin cloth. One hand moved the cloth to his lap where he let it unravel, the parchment falling silently from its folds. One task finished, he turned his attention to his company and his meal.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin started in eagerly.

"Did they all come?" Another asked to which Thorin gave an affirmative murmur.

"Aye, envoys from all seven kingdoms." The surrounding dwarves gave noises of satisfaction.

"And what do the dwaves of the Iron Hills say?" Thorin looked to Dwalin. "Is Dain with us?" Thorin inhaled a steadying breath at the memory.

"They will not come." His voice kept low to shield the disappointment and frustration. "They say this quest is ours and ours alone." His company quickly started to exchange glanced and disappointed grumblings.

"You're going on a quest?" A voice popped from his left, pulling every pair of eyes to the s hobbit.

"Bilbo," Gandalf cut in. "My dear fellow. Let us have a little more light." The hobbit made a simply nod and moved away while Gandalf stood, pulling a piece of parchment into the light. "Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single, solitary peak."

A candle hovered at Thorin's shoulder, a small hobbit hand holding aloft as Bilbo read slowly, "the Lonely Mountain."

"Aye," Gloin started before going into his brief lecture about the return of the ravens. For his part, Thorin stayed silent, listening to Oin's gravel voice reciting the lines Thorin heard whispering in his dreams. Once again Bilbo's voice sounded out. Thorin realized the young Halfling was behind him and sounded most unawares. No small part of him appreciated that Gandalf had kept the quest a secret from the hobbit until their arrival; less knowledge and less tongues waging in ways they shouldn't.

Bofur launched into a metaphorical rendition of the beast, forcing Thorin to stare hard at the wood of the dinner table. Thorin stole a glance at Gandalf as he felt the hobbit nearing the table. Had it not been for the hobbit's insistence he knew of dragons, Thorin would have assumed the Halfling hardly recognized the description. About to quip to Gandalf about his choice of burglar, Thorin was cut short as Ori stood, making energetic—and amusing—declarations before his brother pulled him back into his seat.

"The path would be difficult enough with an army behind us," Balin said briskly. "But we number just thirteen. And not thirteen of the best," he shuffled, "nor brightest." His nephew's idealistic voice quieted the company's grumblings of insult. Thorin studied his two nephews, their wide-eyes still readily apparent to him as they spoke. Still, he couldn't rebuff them their hope—for was that not the reason to keep going upon this quest? While their arguments for joining the company had heavily focused on their fresh senses and physical skills, their greater optimism had tilted the scales to their favour. Knowing everything the ragtag company could face in its trek, Thorin had decided a pair of smiling, youthful faces might bring some much needed sunlight when the days were dark. That didn't mean he wasn't amused at Kili's elated declaration of Gandalf's unknown dragon slaying. Less amusing was the ensuing commotion, and he yelled in Khuzdul. Immedaite silence.

"If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?" The fervour grew in his voice. The company responded in kind and he sat.

"You forget the front gate is sealed," Balin pointed out. "There is no way into the mountain." His eyes shifted just enough to show his own discomfort at being the one to bring down their excitement.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf replied softly. His fingers moved purposefully and a glimmer of black metal twisted effortlessly into view. Thorin felt thunderstruck. For too long he had grappled with the very fact Balin had just presented. His nights of considering the quest, tossing back and forth about what attempt could be made if every entrance was sealed. A fateful meeting in an inn had lead to this very notion of reclaiming Erebor, and, like a seed, it had sprouted in Thorin's mind, growing with such a decisive passion that its roots reached through every part of him. Had he just discovered a new grace upon their quest?

"How came you by this?" His breath came out slowly.

"It was given to me by your father, Thrain, for safe keeping." At the mention of his father, Throin's eyes raised to the wizard's face. He struggled to keep his expression simple and cautiously guarded, but he felt his every action hinging on what Gandalf held in his hand. "'Tis yours now." His fingers wrapped around the metal, at first gently before enfolding it in a gentle fist. Hope.

"If there is a key, there must be a door."

"These runes speak of a hidden passage into the lower halls."

"There's another way in." Kili's happiness seeped every syllable.

"Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gandalf spoke simply and let out a sigh. "The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it, but there are others in Middle Earth who can." Thorin met his eyes. Through all mentionings, discussions and short arguments of their quest, Throin knew the opinion Gandalf held of his grudge against Elves. It did not pass the king lightly that the wizard had neglected to specify whom said help could come from. "The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage. " Gandalf looked away from them and his gaze lingered on the hobbit behind. "But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

Ori stood again from his seat. "That's why we need a burglar!"

Thori tilted his head to glance at the hobbit to his side. While he appeared to agreed at their need, Thorin easily recognized an utter lack of comprehension in his words. He refrained from a smirk as the hobbit floundered, obviously confused when one of the company asked him if he was thusly qualified. Balin let out what everyone else was likely thinking—most certainly the King's own thoughts—when he doubted the hobbit's capacity.

"Aye," Dwalin joined in. "The wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves." The King silently mulled over the points, but his fellow dwarves broke into chatter. A second later a voice thundered over them like a growing storm, and the candlelight disappeared to a sweeping darkness emenating from their wizard. As quickly as it started, it receeded.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." Gandalf sat. "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mister Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know." The wizard did not hide his lingering frustration. "Including himself." Thorin returned to the wizard's face, his own expression mute. "You must trust me on this." Such words had rarely passed openly between them, and Thorin felt his thoughts tripping. While he would never say publicly, he knew that Gandalf would not say such things lightly; they may have disputed details and come to clash on occasion, but he trusted the wizard's wisdom and prized his alliance. Not that he would ever say so.

"Give him a contract." Balin breached into a quick overview of the contents, and Thorin pushed it over his shoulder and into the hobbit's chest. The parchment rustled and the hobbit's mumbling hummed behind him. Thorin stood smoothly and silently, leaning into Gandalf's confidence.

"I cannot guarantee his safety."

"Understood."

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate," Thorin added quietly.

Gandalf's eyes met his own. "Agreed." Thorin returned to standing, and Gandalf's expression turned to amusement at the sound of Bilbo's reading of the contract. Dwarf contracts were nothing if not specific and all-encompassing. Bofur stepped in to add light brutality with a smile.

"Aye, it'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye." Thorin didn't need to look at the hobbit to know what he likely looked like. Balin's inquiry added to Thorin's certainty that the Halfling fared less than well. Bofur stepped up.

"Think furnace with wings."

"I-I-I need air," the hobbit's thick voice spoke to no one in particular. Thorin turned to take a look at their host and found him standing with heavy shoulders.

"Think flash of light, searing pain, then poof, you're nothin' more than a pile of ash!" Silence followed. Thorin studied every twitch as Bilbo first straightened then seemed to shift, as if settling back into his skin. A brief glance in another direction, a "no" and their burglar collapsed to the ground.

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><p>Gandalf moved first to the hobbit, and Thorin turned back to his company. "Start finding places to rest. We'll stay here for the night and leave in the morning." He took a pause. It didn't take a look back to hear Gandalf moving the hobbit to another room. "With or without Mister Baggins." And so the company of dwarves stood from the table, in more or less strong spirits, and shuffled out of the kitchen to explore the house for apt sleeping arrangements.<p>

Dwalin approached the King casually. "I didn't know hobbits had such eclectic social circles," the tall dwarf mused aloud. "A wizard, a woman and now dwarves." His eyes locked with Thorin's.

"Quite a collection," Thorin responded plainly, his arms crossed over his chest while he leaned against a curved doorframe. Dwalin shook his head gruffly for only a second before wandering off. Dwaln's attention peeked at the sound of humoured jesting down the hall, and he followed the trickle of sound.

"How was I to kow there was someone else in this house besides our company?" Kili's indignant, low voice shot out through the chuckles.

"My dear brother, if you had used your eyes earlier, you would have realized a woman was in the house." Fili's voice dipped and flew as he tried to restrain a laugh.

"I thought the doils were simply a quirk of Mister Baggins," his brother replied, referring to the strangely holed cloths they had found throughout the house. Nori was currently pocketing a few, to be sure, if for no reason but to stuff his pockets. Bofur smiled good-naturedly around his pipe.

"Aye, I'd say they are," he added, using his pipe to point at the decorations. "I doubt a woman visitor would decorate her host's home. But say, lad, did you not see her when Thorin arrived? She stood a head taller than you." Kili seemed unnerved by the thought but too curious to let a description pass.

"She's tall?"

"Everyone's tall to you, Kili," Fili jested, earning him a rough shove. "You didn't see her when you barged in on the spare bedroom?" Kili shuffled in immediate discomfort, but his brother threw a large arm around his shoulders and laughed.

"I saw only a figure sleeping before I ran out. I didn't even know it was a woman." Apparently he'd only furthered his plight because the small group broke into another round of laughter.

"Don't even know what a woman looks like, Kili?" The blond dwarf's arm was flung away as Kili sulked in his annoyance. "Well, I suppose I was always the better one with the ladies." A hoot of laughter from Bofur, and the young prince stalked off. Dwalin smirked despite himself.

A second later the hobbit walked past, looking downtrodden but resigned. Bofur and Dwalin exchanged a brief glance before the taller dwarf strode down the hall to the wizard. An unsigned contract lay discarded on the table and Gandalf puffed pensively on his pipe, his eyes trained on the opposite window.

A part of Dwalin wished to reiterate what he'd said earlier. The wild was indeed no place for someone as gentle—and prudish—as Mister Baggins. But he held his tongue, and instead set about settling into one of the armchairs. If only they hadn't run through all the mead already.

Down the hall, Thorin's voice lingered: "Mister Baggins, tell your human guest to join us."


	6. Contracts

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters are Tolkein's. I supposedly own this story and Eda. But considering it's somehow taken on a life of it's own, I don't know if that is still true.

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><p>Eda lumbered after the hobbit. Sleep still tugged at her eyes. 'How did they ever wake from such comfortable beds?' she only barely contained the thought from spilling out in a vocal sentence. Her path to the living room garnered attention, and the remaining dwarves followed, faces written with curiosity and confusion.<p>

Thorin stood in the light of the hearth. She bowed efficiently and tried to swallow a small yawn.

"I see you have lost your previous height," Thorin noted. Indeed, she was back to her view of the world closer to the ground—perhaps even a few centimeters lower than her last encounter with the king since she had left her boots and several books at the foot of her bed. Rather than answer, she shrugged. Words were slow in coming and she didn't feel much like sparing them on him anyway.

"The rest of your appearance." It came out like a command as opposed to a request for explanation. 'Fair enough,' she thought, 'I'd like to get this off anyway,' She looked around.

"A cloth or something to—"a dwarf with a distinct triple mohawk thrust some sort of linen in front of her. She picked it up gingerly, inspecting the delicate details and numerous holes. Doilies. 'S'ppose so.' She faintly registered the hobbit's voice exclaiming that doilies were not for cleaning, but she nevertheless folded it and wiped it across her face. Her tan skin appeared, looking much darker as it stood next to the white paste. A disgruntled huff and subtle footsteps—along with a few deep chuckles—told her the hobbit had abandoned them all for his bed. The same dwarf offered another similar piece of cloth when it looked like the first was used up. The black coal she'd used to thicken her eyebrows stained the cream colour, but she continued the same, and Thorin continued with his questioning.

"You were recognized by Dwaln." She closed her eyes to conceal their roll.

"If you were a true professional, you wouldn't have had someone else in the room when you gave me the assignment." Her words came out succinctly.

"Your method of completion was sloppy. Anyone could have seen or mistakenly intercepted," he continued. Her mouth tipped downwards, and her eyes narrowed.

"Calculated risk."

"Your report was amateur and over-detailed on trivial matters," he shot another at her. She smirked. In the end, she had drawn a map of the wizard's path to the Shire. It included crudely drawn illustrations of the wizard eating and sleeping—along with times at which he did so—as well as a full page of elaborate—if ugly—recreations of his numerous fireworks.

Her smirk coloured her words with a tone of self-satisfaction. "Revenge." A pause. "I didn't technically break any rules. You never specified how to write the report."

"Excuse me." At this point Gandalf stepped in and forward. Eda though she glimpsed a smile tucked in his eyes. "Thorin, who is the young lady?" This seemed to satisfy Thorin further.

"Meet our burglar."

"You can be seriously considering a human woman as a burglar," Gloin blurted.

"Aye, the hobbit was bad enough, but a lassie would cause even more trouble," Bofur hastened to add. A swell of noise as every dwarf jostled the air to share his opinion—either with Thorin directly or each other. For his part, Gandalf looked perplexed but reserved, though possibly teetering on anger should Thorin proceed unwisely. The group quieted when the wizard asked for an explanation.

"Yes, that would be great," the woman added sharply.

"I sent for this woman while we waited for you to return and give news of our burglar. Days had passed and we had no news of whether you'd fared well in your search. I enlisted the woman—"

"I have a name—"

"for a task." He took a moment and tried to consider how best to phrase his next sentence. "I had her track you from your departure to your arrival at the Shire. I did not know if she would succeed in avoiding discovery, but I wanted a test of her skills. Tonight, at dinner, she succeeded in conveying her report to me without discovery—though I would hesitate to call her efforts successful or admirable." She shrugged as if unburdened with a care in the world for his opinion. She refused a fifth doiley from Nori and turned to them. Both of Thorin's nephews gave a jolt of recognition.

"You said you were going north!" Kili sounded almost injured by the realization she had lied to him. The younger dwarf's eyes met those of his uncle and he explained, "I met Miss Eda in the stables." His mind clicked it together. "I suppose she was waiting for her time to leave after Mister Gandalf." At his name, the company looked to the wizard, who appeared amused, curious and cautious.

"And you think she is qualified enough to join your company?"

"Had I another choice, I would have taken it." The woman breathed out low, almost growling, at the insult.

"Not that I am not flattered," she interrupted tartly. "But you have yet to even ask if I want to join."

"Do you want to jo-?" It was Kili who asked.

"No." Her eyes narrowed. "I finished my bargain, and I am quite done with the dwarves of the Blue Mountains for now."

"But how will we buy your game?" Again Kili spoke out of turn only to receive a resounding slap to the back of his head from Fili.

Thorin ignored the woman's words and spoke to Balin, though his eyes remained focused on her expression. "Give her a contract." The older dwarf blinked. Surely he couldn't be serious? Yet he had been told to bring at least one copy of the contract. Such the copy that he pulled from his coat and handed to Thorin, who practically threw it at the woman.

"Read it first," he ordered brusquely. She shifted anxiously then marched off, growls mingling in her long exhale.

"Thorin," Balin broke the silence first. "A woman? Surely we are not so desperate—"

"She is a hunter with familiarity to the woods and stealth." He hated the words coming out. It sounded too much like he wanted such a solution when such a solution seemed like the most pathetic of desperation. "She is a thief and smuggler as well, making her as qualified as the hobbit for such a task as the one we have in mind." He met the old man's quizzical gaze then those of his company. "I would not wish for this burglar—not once were I to live a hundred lifetimes. Yet Mister Baggins has refused our offer, and, as we have no dwarf kin capable of such a task, we must pull from what little may be found." He glanced at the woman as she stood in the hall light, staring at the parchment. "Even if it is the littlest of all."

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><p>Her eyes felt exhausted already, and she had only been staring at the contract for twenty seconds. A hand raked over her face, and a groan ground out. Why she continued to hold the paper—rather than simply shoving it back at Thorin's face with a resounding 'no'—she couldn't hazard a guess. She could, however, curse her curiosity. As it was, her curiosity was giving her a headache.<p>

Heavy footsteps of dwarf boots sounded beside her.

"Having trouble?" She glanced out the corner of her eye.

"Why would you say that?"

"You look like Kili did when Balin tried to teach him chess," the blond prince answered lightly. Without a word, she shuffled further down the hallway and ducked into a doorway. He followed, his expression one of concerned confusion, as if worrying she was suddenly deranged.

"I-I." She took a deep inhale. "Promise first that you won't tell anyone." She waited silently.

"Should I sign a contract of secrecy?" He questioned innocently, his eyes searching briefly for a second piece of paper. She rolled her eyes and fought ot keep her hands from clawing her own face off.

"No. Just…promise. Consider it a verbal contract—"

"Who's the witness—"

"Oh, Valar have mercy! No witness, just promise, damnit!" He startled at the words but nodded his head.

"I promise."

Her breath came out in a tremor but she thrust the contract into his chest. "I-I can't read."

At the words, her entire upper body had slumped forward, her eyes scrunched shut and her mouth pursed. She hated admitting it to anyone, much less a stranger, but her curiosity to know what the contract said had lead her to this point. Her hands pressing the crisp parchment into a young dwarf prince's chest. And the chest was…heaving? Distinct chuckles reached her ears, and her head snapped up, eyes wide.

"What are you laughing for?" She demanded in a hiss. Her hands pulled away, itching to damage him in some way. He held up a hand of his own, waving it like a peace flag.

"Nothing, nothing." He straightened the paper out before him. "I've just never seen such a dramatic declaration over something so minor." Her eyes narrowed.

"Alright, alright, just read it already, your highness," she ground out. His chuckles subsided.

"Would you like me to read it to you as a bedtime story?" This time her mind wasn't fast enough to restrain her hand, and it flew forward to smack him on the arm. Fili simply sniggered more. 'Damn their thick coats,' she cursed inwardly.

"Just read the important parts before I choke you with it—"

"That would certainly make signing it very difficu—"

"Now!"

With a flourish, he straightened the paper. Eda leaned in, waiting, for what felt like minutes before he locked eyes with her.

"What do you consider to be important?" 'Oh, of all the ruddy dwarves to help,' she thought, running a hand over her face.

"How much is the prize?" He didn't even bother to scan the paper.

"Not exceeding one fourteenth of the treasure in Erebor." Seeing her lack of recognition, he felt the need to add, "that's a lot of gold."

"Erebor is where?"

"Far away."

"Great. That was helpful. So very helpful. Immense—"

"Past Mirkwood."

"Right. Why do you need a thief?"

"A nasty furnace with wings currently resides there." The prince seemed proud of his paraphrasing and folded the contract up before holding it out to her. Hazel eyes flitted incredulously between his smiling face and the outstretched paper.

"I'm not done yet!"

"I am, though." He feigned a long, stretching yawn. "Reading contracts for someone is very tiring business." He pushed the paper into her hands with a wink. "Best you just sign it so we can all get some sleep."

"I still don't know anything!" Her indignation rose heatedly through her voice.

"What else do you need to know? Vast wealth awaits you, and you will have the pleasure of traveling with twelve of the most dashing dwarves in all of Middle Earth." Another wink, and he left her standing in the doorway.


	7. Pockets

Author nonsense: Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoy the next installment. The Hobbit 2 just released in China, so, luckily, I have yet to make it to that since I won't likely have access to it for at least another month or more. I hope this is truly three days from my last update, but I get confused if the update dates are in my time in China or the US. So, I'll take this as a guess in my time-addled brain.

Disclaimer: All you recognize is Tolkein.

And thank you, 19seventythree for all your support.

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><p>Eda wasn't completely illiterate. She knew how to write the names of her family, and she knew her letters and numbers. It was only when someone put the blasted letters into groups that she struggled. Her father could read basics, but he never considered teaching his daughter such when he could teach her how to read animal tracks. Her mother had married young and had never wanted her future one of scholarly pursuits. For Eda's few years in school, she had paid little attention, and so, when the family's money ran thin after a poor season, she had voluntarily dropped out and never looked back.<p>

She could still do her jobs; smuggling rarely used contracts or any written evidence so her need for verbal instructions gave little hinderance. If it required recognizing a correct catch, she would quickly shove the words into her brain with a short-term memorization. Facing the dwarf contract was the first time in twenty odd years she wished whole-heartedly that she had learned to read.

The blond dwarf's voice echoed in her ears. "One fourteenth of the treasure in Erebor." She exhaled low and long, and the sound gradually turned to a whispered whistle. Surely dwarves wouldn't take on a dragon for a few gold coins. The dwarf settlements in the Blue Mountains hadn't the grandeur of historical kingdoms, she knew, but they had settled comfortably in the caverns. To draw them away from a safe home, she reasoned, it must be a mountain of gold itself. 'Enough gold to settle me and my family,' she thought. Seconds later she darted into what looked like a study, grabbed a quill from atop the desk and scratched her name on the line.

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><p>Eda quickly discovered the difficulty of sleeping underground when she returned to her room and realized the lack of windows in this specific room meant she wouldn't see dawn. The idea of relying on the dwarves to wake her struck uncomfortably in the gut. Bidding a sad farewell to the soft bed, she grabbed her boots, pack and headed back to the hearth. Most of the dwarves had given to sleep after their song and a few rounds of pipe smoking. Eda could hear their snores before she even entered the room and stopped in the doorway, her eyes searching the ground and furniture for an open space. Two of the younger dwarves lay before the fire, immersed in conversation. A meter away—enough of a distance for her to slip in—sat another of the young dwarves. She stepped cautiously through the limbs and made brief eye contact with the dwarf as she moved towards him. She tried miming her intent, but his eyes had averted to the notebook resting in his gloved hands.<p>

"I-is anyone—" he shook his head fervently but didn't move his eyes from his book. She shrugged and sat down beside him. After a second of silence, her curiosity piqued and she leaned in his direction, her eyes trying to steal a glance at the pages of his book. He immediately jerked the book closer to his chest and tilted away. She frowned in a sort of resigned annoyance and wrapped herself in her cloak.

"Don't take it personally," a young voice reached out. She looked at the two dwarves at the hearth. The brunette spoke, "he doesn't show anyone what he writes in there." Kili's face broke with a mischievous grin and she felt the young dwarf beside her shrinking behind his pages. "Fili and I have a wager on what it is."

At this, the blond, Fili, piped up. "I say they are fantastic renderings of all our glory."

"I attest they are secret letters of love and longing for a dwarf lass." Eda would have easily sworn she felt heat radiating from the silent dwarf at her side. Somehow their very conspiracies spoke to something of the two brothers, and Eda felt tickles of amusement.

"Perhaps they are secret recipes to grow great beards," she suggested. The attention turned to Kili, who held a look of mock indignation and intense curiosity.

"I shall have to steal the book as soon as our Ori has rested his eyes, then!" he declared. Ori let out a hiccup and clutched the book tighter. Only when they laughed did he relax, realizing their jest.

"Best leave the thievery to our burglar," Fili recommended, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder and chuckling. "As I hear, she is already quite experienced." There was something of a playful challenge in his eyes that Eda returned.

"I wouldn't know of any thievery," she paused and her lips tilted into a smirk. "I just happen to pick up things people leave behind."

"And by 'behind' she means anything left in the open," Fili said to Kili, who snickered. Eda felt a surge of pride and her smirk widened before she adopted an innocent expression.

"I don't know, Master Fili." Her fingers pulled a thick metal clasp from her pocket. In the firelight, the dark metal sparked with glimmers of red. Fili's eyes shot wide and he grabbed his cloak, which had been previously resting as a pillow near Eda's hip. "Did you not mean to leave this behind?" Her fingers tingled with the energy coursing her veins. He snatched the clasp back amongst the roaring laughter of Kili and pointedly tucked it into his pocket, shooting her a look of light-hearted reproach and amusement. She didn't feel any remorse for the loss; her fingers grazed items simply for the thrill of the sneak, the snatch. Escaping without an eye knowing.

"You are a thief!"

She scowled lightly. "I am not a thief." She grinned smugly. "I'm a collector." It hardly sufficed for a cover and the group, Ori included, tried to keep their laughs low. Kili made a mildly dramatic show of checking his things for any missing items.

"She's as bad as Nori," he jested.

"No one's as bad as Nori," Fili said almost proudly. Ori carefully tucked his notebook into his coat, tucking it near his chest, and shuffled to lie on the ground. Eda considered it a que for their own time to sleep, but neither Fili nor Kili appeared to share this sentiment. As the young dwarf's breathing slowed and steadied, they dropped to whispers.

"Uncle said you're a smuggler, too," Fili stated. "What do you smuggle?" 'That's quite a diplomatic approach,' she thought sarcastically. For his part, the brunette brother seemed equally curious but more uncomfortable with the question. Eda caught a flicker of something in his expression that tasted of distrust. 'Smart enough to recognize the difference between genial exchanges and trust,' she reasoned. Fili mistook her silence for insult and hurried to soften the question. "I know he also said you haven't stolen anything from the Dwarves in the Blue Mountains or our kin." Kili's expression turned to one more at ease—though still not entirely trusting.

Eda never considered for even a fraction of a second to explain or repute the statement. Supply and demand dominated her life as a small-time smuggler, and, while valuable, dwarf jewels were never an issue of demand. She hardly thought it would swell their dwarf chests with pride, however, to know that she didn't consider stealing their relics or jewels to be worth her effort, even if it was a simple explanation: high risk, low reward, high pay, low demand. Of course, if that changed at any point...

On the other hand, issues of medicines, raw materials, food could be sold in almost any town without people wondering—or caring—where the goods came from. And smaller trinkets like anonymous jewelry—to either resell or melt for metal.

Kili waited with more curiosity than he knew he had for the realm of the shady. He believed in honour and courage, both of which felt directly challenged by the existence of this woman. At the same time, he didn't feel uneasy around her; he had always thought illegal characters simply grew from defective personalities. Evil, in a word. Corrupt, a bad egg. As such, he had always imagined it would be easy for him to pick them out if he ever met one. But he had met one, and he would never had known had his uncle not revealed it.

She shrugged, having finally seemed to resolve her thoughts. "I deal most in daily things people need but can't always get themselves." His eyebrows furrowed. If it was daily or rudimentary, then why wouldn't people have them? How would a smuggler or thievery come into the matter? Anything his kin needed, they made or bought fairly, and Kili never felt need for something beyond his reach. The idea rang foreign in his ears.

He found his eyes locked on hers when her voice pulled him from his thoughts. "There come times when people find items harder to come by. Medicines, plants, metals, weapons. Not everyone can rely completely on self and kinship cannot make resources grow from the ground. At that point, it is a matter of getting items into the paying hands."

"And when it is a want but not a need and the objects are less charitable in nature?" Kili studied her carefully, almost stiffly. Thorin had said she hadn't stolen from dwarves, but she had mentioned weaponry. Surely dwarf weapons and armour, perhaps even mithril, made its way through her hands. While dwarves were protective of their culture and proud of their skills, they wouldn't snob work in smitheries even if their works would go to human hands—Thorin himself had worked in human villages once Erebor was stolen. Yet the idea of stealing the goods to resell without conscience made his fingers twitch angrily.

Her eyes turned to the dozing fire. "It's not my place to decide who morally deserves to buy—nor is it my interest so long as they can pay." Fili shifted and rested a hand on his brother's forearm. Their eyes met for just a brief second, but Kili knew his brother wanted him to sleep before things went towards a messy quarrel of values. More the woman's apparent lack of. When he did not move to lie down, Fili squeezed his arm and tugged.

The woman gave him a small smile as if she didn't feel a guilt in the world for her words. Contrary to his brother's worry, Kili didn't feel excessively angry—which came as a surprise to even himself. As he lay down, he tried to pick apart the knot of thoughts. But like a knot made of a thousand strings, he found himself grasping hopelessly at fragments he couldn't untangle. There certainly was some hint of anger. Distrust, too. Indignation and pity, disgust. But the feelings only simmered as if her frank words had sprayed water over the kindling; she hadn't spoken proudly or defensively. If anything, her voice held hardly any emotion at all. Perhaps that's what unnerved him the most.

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><p>"Come on, Gloin, make your decision already!" Bofur pestered loudly. He jabbed the red-headed dwarf sharply, earning him a reproachful harrumph.<p>

"Nay," he said. The company stood in the high sunshine of the Shire. A handful of members put the remaining bags and provisions on the ponies while the others mounted and continued a boisterous gambling session. Eda swung her back onto the back of her pony and started to wrap it securely in thick twine. The morning sun was bright but still young, dusting their faces in warmth and giving promising kisses of the warmth to come. Throin waited silently on his horse, and the woman thought she detected a note of annoyance at their good-natured delay.

"And you?" She glanced up at Bofur as he sat happily in his saddle. Swinging into her saddle, she shook her head.

"I don't gamble, Master Bofur," she said simply and set to gathering her reigns. "I hardly have money 'nough without simply giving it away." She laughed in her breath.

"Your loss, lassie," he grinned around his pipe and turned to Oin on his other side.

"What 'bout you, Oin?" He shouted. "Yay or nay on the hobbit?" The dwarves chuckled and Thorin kicked his steed to a steady walk with the rest of the company following.

"What was that?" Oin leaned precariously in his saddle in his attempt to put his trumpet closer to Bofur. Bofur reached out and grabbed the metal's edge, shouting again, "Yay or nay on the hobbit?" Eda nudged her new pony to fall in line and left the betting behind.

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><p>"Miss Eda." She looked up from her horse's mane to the familiar face with happily crinkled eyes. "I don't believe we were properly introduced." He gave her a pointed look, and her attention caught up.<p>

"O-oh, yes," she fumbled and cleared her throat. "I am Miss Eda. You are…?"

Gandalf nodded his head. "Gandalf the Grey."

"A wizard?! Oh, golly!" She couldn't resist the theatrical exuberance and nearly broke into laughter at the mirth in his eyes.

"Yes, I do believe I am," he replied evenly. "And you are a woman of many professions, I hear." He tilted his head to peer more sternly. Eda thought of the way her teacher would look at her after catching another stolen trinket in her desk. A sort of amused all-knowing—not necessarily surprised but with a touch of insult that they were, in the case of her teacher, once again in the same situation.

"I like to consider them all of one profession. They are all a matter of simple delivery." Hunting wood to plate. Smuggling goods to paying hands. "Some may say the morals are questionable, but I am sure if you asked enough, a deer would tell you I stole his mother away with my arrows." His lips twitched, and she let out a more honest, defiant grin. "I find life is all a matter of perspective."

"And the best perspective to have is that none matter?" Gandalf challenged calmly.

She opened her mouth to answer when a faint voice stretched through the trees. Another shout and the group came to a collective still. Eyes turned back to a hasty figure.

"I signed it." The hobbit held up the trailing piece of paper triumphantly. Balin took it for a close inspection before announcing his approval.

"Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield." Several dwarves let out hoots of happiness. Gandalf himself looked unsurprised but respectfully happy. Eda imagined him gloating on the inside. Thorin glanced at her with something she couldn't begin to read but turned his horse to the front. "Give him a pony." And at that, they set off again.

Immediately, Eda fell back, waiting for the dwarves to finish positioning him in the saddle before she dropped into line beside him. The hobbit showed little recognition of her presence as he stared at the reins in his hands then at the ambling animal. Luckily it seemed to require little guidance from him. She cleared her throat.

"I-uh-I wanted to apologize," she stammered. "For…well, for lying to you yesterday." In the hurry of signing a contract, meeting the company—more or less—and Bilbo's departure for bed, she had completely forgotten about making right by the Halfling. Seeing him raised a wave of guilt in her stomach that she wanted to subside as soon as possible. "I shouldn't have done it, but it was…" she couldn't think of a reasoning. For truthfully speaking there existed none that would make her somehow less culpable for lying and taking advantage of him. She shifted uncomfortably in her saddle and felt her palms warm. 'Apologizing couldn't honestly make me sweat,' she thought incredulously. 'I've apologized before. There was…"her brain racked for the last time "I'm sorry" came into her vocabulary.

"It's okay," the hobbit cracked in. "I suppose it is all part of the adventure, now." He smiled good-naturedly, and Eda felt a twinge of guilt before smiling back. 'Are all hobbits this wholesome?' she looked around at the company. 'Or perhaps everyone is, and I'm simply the odd one here.' At that point, Gandalf joined them, and Eda spurred her horse ahead to give them privacy.

"Pay up, Nori!" Eda ducked as a bag of coins sailed past her. 'Yes,' she mused, 'this will likely be an adventure.'


	8. Feathers

A/N: And then my timely update schedule was thrown out the window. So sorry! I only have a few days left in my village, then I will hope to make it more consistent once I have internet access (I am at the mountain pass right now in where I am writing). Let me know what you think, and thank you for reading. :)

Disclaimer: I disclaim everything you recognize.

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><p>Thorin made the decision for camp when they reached a rocky overhang. The sun had yet to disappear when Thorin abruptly stopped and dismounted. Every dwarf had a job, and Thorin listed them out curtly. Eda herself earned the task of finding food, and she resisted rolling her eyes when she heard Thorin tell his younger nephew, "Make sure she doesn't bring us any trouble."<p>

"I am such a risk, of course," she muttered more to her pony than anyone else. The animal gave no recognition of her words and anxiously tugged at his reins, eager to rest and munch. "I appreciate the comfort," she shot back before removing his bridle and tying him up by the others. Gandalf stepped next to her with his horse following. "Why am I somehow the risk when the dwarf is sure to make more noise?" She knew he could hear her but hadn't expected a response. Spending time alone in the woods had loosened her mouth that she would frequently speak to the animals, plants or weather if such a thought struck her.

"You would do well to keep from judgment," Gandalf reprimanded softly. The brunette dwarf was striding over to them, his bow and quiver slung over his back and an anxious expression on his face.

"Hurry while we still have light," he said, and Eda hurried to untie her own bow and arrows from her pony.

Around them dwarves had set to their chores—some with more bickering than others—and the two archers disappeared into the trees. Gandalf's words threw her own back in her face. The dwarf made little noise and moved purposefully through the trees.

"I wasn't aware dwarves hunted," she muttered more to herself and the trees. He hushed her nonetheless. "Or knew how to be quiet." His eyes darted to her with a flat look of exasperation. She could practically read the thoughts by his face and, unfortunately for him, it sparked something of a malevolent amusement in her. 'I wonder how long it would take for him to speak,' she kept this sentence silent as they pushed through a thicket. As she opened her mouth to test the waters, the sound of a cracking twig tugged her ear. Silently, an arrow steadied in her hand, and she crouched to the ground. It was only at that moment that she realized how little light they had to hunt with. A mist of golden haze stretched over the tree tops, but the shadows grew steadily colder as the sun pulled away. All thoughts of goading the young dwarf fell from her thoughts like downed birds. Fewer animals roamed at this hour. Scarce light left them no room for error but little chance of success.

'I hate nighttime,' she pricked her ears at the snap of another twig and some rustling leaves in the distance. Neither of them breathed let alone spoke, and she felt Kili's hand on her arm, pulling her attention to him long enough that he could silently point to their west. Her footsteps landed softly on the dirt, and she crept steadily closer when she heard a hoot behind her. It was her turn to grab Kili's arm and she wordlessly mimed they should split. Again, another hoot of an owl and the recognition spread on his face. She couldn't resist.

'Bet?' she mouthed with a devilish grin. Kili looked torn between incredulously rolling his eyes and ignoring her all together. 'I'll take that as a yes,' she thought, turning quietly on her heel to follow the owl's call.

* * *

><p>"It appears to me that you have yourself two burglars, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf declared from his place by the growing fire. Bombur sat beside him, working on filling a pot with vegetables for which Kili or Eda's meat would made to a hearty stew. Thorin didn't respond. The instant the hobbit had handed over his signed contract, Thorin's mind began to churn, trying to decide on his next move. Two burglars exceeded his need as well as his patience to have strangers in his company. Thorin felt inclined to send the woman away in favour of Gandalf's choice. Even if he doubted the hobbit heavily, he trusted—and respected-the wizard's opinion more than he would ever acknowledge. That didn't necessarily mean he would always follow it, as they both knew well, but it gave the hobbit a distinct lead over the woman despite her better skills for the job.<p>

"Neither of them are ideal," Dwalin gruffly said from his spot in the fire's warmth. "But a woman is always more trouble than help in battle and travel."

"If you believed women to be such a hindrance, why would you select her for the task?" Gandalf replied almost sharply. "If I recall correctly, she is not without merit." At this, he gave a pointed look at the king. They had yet to discuss Thorin's decision for her to track and report on the wizard. While both understood it had been little more than a test for the woman's skills, Thorin knew Gandalf would not let the incident slide without some discussion. He was hoping to make it as brief as possible.

Balin brought up the other, prickly issue that stalled Thorin's thinking. "She also signed a contract."

"Yes, same as the hobbit, and yet all contracts speak of a fourteenth's share of the treasure. Tell me," Thorin spoke carefully to his trusted friend. "How does a treasure split fourteen ways amongst fifteen people?" The dwarves hummed, clearly as stuck as himself, and none could offer a solution.

"Perhaps you are making the mistake of assuming all parties will take their full portion," Gandalf suggested.

"And why would that be a mistake to think?" Thorin replied shortly.

"Because not all the creatures of the earth have the same lust for gold as dwarves." Gandalf's answer came swiftly and sharply. "You would be well off to remember that there are other things in this world that people love." He took a long drag from his pipe and muttered angrily, "and a great deal of them hold more value."

Thorin frowned and turned away from the wizard. Gandalf's words struck hard and precise, exactly as the wizard had expected them to. Thorin could still see his grandfather's wide-eyed enthrallment in his mind, remembering the hours the King had lost simply staring at the piles of wealth. It had felt like watching his grandfather's mind draining, his thoughts narrowing to those of his jewels and the need for more. He'd almost lost his very life for it, Thorin remembered, for the dwarf felt certain that his grandfather would have leapt into the gold, even with the dragon in its midst, had Thorin not pulled him away.

"Oh, come off it," a voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Thorin turned to see Kili and Eda had returned. The woman handed Bombur a dead owl while his nephew looked put out. "I didn't sabotage you."

Kili didn't appear to see it that way. "The noise of your kill scared off the deer," he accused, and Thorin realized the young dwarf had come back empty-handed.

"Then you should have hurried to kill first," she replied easily, taking a seat beside Bombur and putting a pot of water over the fire. Her smirk faltered at his flat stare and crossed arms, and she sighed, "what were you going to do with a deer anyway? Carry it with you through the mountains for the next few days? We never could have finished it in a night."

Kili let out a short sniff of disapproval before joining his brother's side. "You've clearly never seen Bombur eat." Silence followed.

Thorin decided it was best to take the opportunity and directed his attention to Eda. "With the addition of the hobbit, your services are no longer required." Her head jerked and her eyes snapped to his. He could read the mixed relief and disappointment in her hazel eyes as easily as if she'd written it across her face.

"Thorin, are you serious?" Gandalf interrupted. When Thorin refused to acknowledge the wizard's words—or even his existence—he heard the man storm off, uttering complaints as he left.

"Where is Gandalf going?" the hobbit's voice broke in as he returned to their camp.

"Don't worry, laddie," Balin answered. "He'll be back."

At this point, Eda's expression furrowed, as if the delay had given her time to think. "I signed a contract, though," she said. She didn't dare glance at Fili, terrified he would choose to side with his uncle and reveal her illiterate secret. Even if she couldn't read it, she had still signed it, so she knew in some way she was bound to the company. However, she also knew that being unable to read meant she did not know the technicalities of the contract; technicalities like being released from the contract, for instance. Her stomach churned and the palms of her hands felt warmer than usual.

Her entire day of riding with the company—with the exception of small conversations with the friendlier of dwarves, Gandalf and the hobbit—had been spent thinking of the treasure. More precisely, thinking of what her family could do with it. Her parents could buy a new bed or a new stove. If her imaginings of the wealth proved true, they could simply move to a better home. Her brother could continue studying, and her sister could have the largest family in the whole town yet never want for food. Her cousin could…and so on had traveled her mind while her body traveled east. Most resounding, echoing in the excited beat of her heart, was the realization that she could also live comfortably. She could cease smuggling and trapping if she so chose—though leave the light thievery for a hobby, of course. She could live with her family and raise nieces and nephews while perhaps starting even her own home.

That fortune promised of a chance at freedom.

She would be damned if she let it slip away without a fight.

"We are willing to release you form contract without repercussions." Something in the wording made Eda pause. Contracts were two ways. Always someone who initiated and the person who signed. But dwarf contracts were details and reputably precise, fair. His words made her dare to guess that such an option required both party's consent. If she was wrong, she ran the risk of accidentally exposing her ignorance. But if she was right…She drew in a shaky, silent breath.

"And what will you do when I say I am unwilling to consent to such a release?" Her breath hitched in the silent seconds that followed. Her fingers tingled anxiously. His expression darkened, and she let out the breath in a small hiss. 'Thank Valar,' she praised silently.

"I could easily send word for your goods and secrets to be revealed," his tone mirrored his expression, and she felt her resolve falter from fear. 'Pause,' she told herself. She stretched forward a hand, trying to ignore its subtle tremor, and pulled the pot of hot water off the fire. Bombur dropped the bird into the water and the two of them began to pluck its feathers.

The familiarity calmed her nerves, and she kept her eyes on her task when she dared ask, "And when those hunting me draw eyes to your company traveling east?" The air stilled but for the crackling of the fire.

"You would dare to endanger this company with your stubbornness?" 'A dwarf lecturing me on stubbornness,' she thought darkly. Beside her, Bombur had ceased moving, and she could feel heated eyes on her from nearly every member. Her fingers continued to nimbly tug the feathers from the bird's skin. Never once did her eyes dare away from the task. She feared she would crumple if faced with a wall of angry expressions—her resolve wobbling dangerously already. She hated confrontation almost as much as she hated the idea of walking away from all that gold.

"It would be your stubbornness to oust me that would reveal my secrets to the world," she answered quietly. "I signed a contract." The details of the owl's feathers blurred in her intense concentration. Somewhere she knew her fingers and the feathers were different, but to her wide eyes and distracted mind, her tan skin melded with the rusted brown feathers. She fumbled, and the owl's body floated in an unpleasant contortion within the pot.

"All threats aside," Balin attempted peacefully. "Lassie, we cannot split the treasure fourteen ways if there are fifteen members. With two burglars instead of one, it is precisely that problem. Even if you came, you would not get any monetary reward at the end." Her face fell to the internal crack of her heart. 'But why I am the one who should lose?' she wanted to ask. As it was, the words caught in her throat with a jagged mess of distress. 'What about the plans I had?' To return to the same work from which she'd come, to scrape livings from deer tracks and stolen goods, when she had come so close to a fortune…She felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes and tried furiously to swallow back the words. If they cared so little as to simply send her off once they no longer needed her, surely they would not care even if they knew why she felt so determined to join them. Her hands shook more fiercely as they hung in the air. She dove back for the owl, her breathing coming in shallow as it felt like she was drowning in open air.

"Excuse me." Her fist had gripped a handful of feathers when the polite voice piped up. "What if we share our fourteenth?" Without warning, her head snapped up, eyes searching for the speaker. Bilbo sent her a calm, kind glance and stepped closer to the group.

"You're sayin' you'd split your half with the lady?" Bofur asked incredulously. "That'd give you a, what. fifteenth of the treasure?"

"I don't know that your math is correct on that," Bilbo muttered loudly, placing his hands on his coat lapels and rocking on his feet. "But yes, yes, I would." A few of the dwarves made noises of disbelief but Bilbo carried on. "Look, I might not even make it to the mountain, and even if I did, there's no knowing if I will…well," he stammered. "Well, that I will, make it near the dragon." Eda felt a ghost of a smile to one side of her mouth at the way his voice cracked. Even if he felt too overwhelmed to admit the potential of death, she found his courage warming and inspiring. "Having two burglars might be the best thing for you. If one of us is, uh, gone—for one reason or another." His rocking increased, and he appeared visibly driven to find another conversation. " And I wouldn't know what to do with a fourteenth of your treasure in any case. A fifteenth would suit me just fine." He nodded definitively with an air of being quite satisfied with himself.

"I think that would be most agreeable," Gandalf's deep voice swelled around them. The wizard appeared out of the early night, and stood beside the Halfling. The dwarf's attentions turned to woman sitting with a dead bird half-naked in her hands. She nodded curtly without a word and resumed stripping the feathers. "So it's settled," Gandalf stated, though the company felt anything but.


	9. Beliefs

Disclaimer: None of it's mine except for Eda.

* * *

><p>"The stubbornness of dwarves could put a mountain to test," Eda found herself mumbling sourly. In the days following their first night, the dwarves treated Eda to a stony wall of silence and brusque orders. At first she hadn't thought it strange—after all, she had kept to herself rather successfully the first day—but it steadily started to grate her nerves like itchy wool to her skin.<p>

The first day of silence had passed easily enough. Her time alone in woods adapted her to converse with her pony instead, but the hours of the following day trudged slowly by. Traveling alone and traveling in imposed isolation steadily differentiated, her taste buds coming to find the bitterness in the latter. Her mood soured, and it only worsened the third day when they woke to dark clouds fat with looming rain.

By the time their ponies set off in a line through the forest the rain had started to spill over their hunched shoulders. Her hair quickly drenched even with her hood, and her bangs clung to her forehead with ferocity. The only solace came from realizing that, at the least, everyone felt a similar misery. As well, they only spoke when absolutely necessary—and those who considered complaints necessary were quickly threatened or cursed into grumpy submission. For even an artificial moment, her isolation disappeared in the communal discontent. Near midday, Dori chanced asking Gandalf for his aid with the rain only to receive a curt and swift rebuke.

"Are there any?" Eda stole a look around the brim of her hood at the hobbit. His soaked appearance and slumped posture gave the impression he had somehow shrunk, but his eyes narrowed carefully at the wizard.

"What?" Gandalf called back.

"Other wizards," the hobbit clarified.

"There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Sarumon the white. Then there are the two blues." Gandalf gave them a rather lazy look. "You know I've rather quite forgotten their names." Eda felt the spark of amusement somewhere deep beneath her soaked skin and shivering fingers.

"And who is the fifth?"

"That would be Radagast, the brown."

"Is he a great wizard or is he more like you?" The woman swallowed the twitch of a smile as Bilbo leaned forward in his saddle, squinting through the sheets of rain.

This prompted Gandalf to look back before replying, "I think he is a very great wizard—in his own way. He's a gentle soul, prefers the company of animals to others. Keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the east. And a good thing, too, for always will evil look to find a foothold in this world." Eda blamed the shiver upon soggy clothing but could not resist peeking at Bilbo. His eyes caught hers, and they shared no expressions—for how does one react to such an idea? No one spoke in the wake of the wizard's words. The muddled music of horse hooves on wet ground and raindrops in the canopy swelled around their ears.

With no sun by which to accurately guess the time, Eda could only make rough estimates. Her fingers drummed on the brim of her saddle while she tried to pass the time, tried to convince herself time had not run away and left them in a ceaseless eternity of water-logged meanderings. It nevertheless felt like it until Bofur happily pointed to the sky.

"They're brighter," he swore by it, and every pair of eyes dared to look upwards in hope. Indeed, the clouds felt steadily further off and lighter, as if they were shedding the last of their weight. The raindrops slowly shrank to pinpricks before disappearing all together. Her face cracked into a smile like it had forgotten how to do so, and she could hear happy grumbles swelling in the group.

"Now we simply need some sun to warm—" she had started to speak to the nearest dwarf, Gloin, yet found herself cut short when the dwarf abruptly spurred his pony ahead without a single look back. Her confusion searched for an explanation but found only a wall of unyielding dwarf backs before her and indecipherable dwarf faces behind her.

"Did you anger them?" Bilbo whispered to her left. Her expression flattened and her posture scrunched like a crumpled piece of parchment. 'Dwarves,' she cursed.

"You would think I had cut off all their hair for the way they act," she complained to the general vicinity.

"They are simply hostile because of your threat the other night," said Gandalf from his place in front of her. 'The other night…' She tried to recall the conversation, her mind snagging on memories of her trembling hands and owl feathers. But she did remember the comment. Something along the lines of bringing eyes upon Thorin's travel. Of course the meaning being, if they revealed her dealings, she still would not leave, and those hunting her would find the dwarves as well. Even if her hunters left the dwarves in peace, the news of the travel would find flight in gossip. Inevitably, it would reach someone who would care.

"Tell me, Miss Eda, what is one of the most dangerous things in the world?"

"An orc with unfortunate flatulence." He opened his mouth to reply, from the look on his face to reprimand her sarcasm, but she kept going. "A goblin with a tickling fetish. Hungry cannibals."

"Eda—"

"A dragon with uncontrollable sneezing." He cleared his throat pointedly, and she yielded. "Fine," she sighed. "What?"

"A person who doesn't believe in anything," Gandalf skewered her on his gaze. The world felt abruptly too cramped, too small, as if the trees bent towards her while the sky crashed down on her head. "Tell me, what do you believe in?"

Just ahead of the grey man, Eda could see a twist of a cloak and a young dwarf looked back, his eyes as dark and challenging as the question. 'Just the rain,' Eda tried to convince herself as another shudder stirred under her skin.

* * *

><p>By the time Thorin called to set up camp, Eda felt the beginnings of a headache spreading roots in the front of her head. The sun stretched out warmly, the briefest of apologies for such a miserable day. Eda arrived last at the site, and dismounted quickly. Her ears perked to the sound of Gandalf's angry voice. She just barely managed to step out of his way as he came storming down the incline and disappeared from view. Eyebrows raised yet she kept silent. "Seeing as no one would answer even if I did ask," she cooed darkly to her pony.<p>

Ever since the first night, she had been sent out alone to hunt. Part of her wondered if Thorin did it as a testament of faith in her ability to stay safe. A larger, more confident part of her said he was hoping she'd get lost or killed. That afternoon went the same as all the others when Thorin ordered her to head out. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the smooth wood of her bow, and she shouldered her quiver before dashing off without a word.

It felt like entering a sanctuary. Within the safety of the trees, the dwarves' voices disappeared, and the late afternoon sun shone a warm haze. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs till they overflowed, and she let out a languid exhale. Her seedling headache calmed just a little—enough to give her hope. An arrow perched silently on her hand, ready, and she crept through. 'This is what I have,' she thought to herself over continuously relaxing breaths. The sunlight, the trees and the damp leaves on the ground. The thumps of rabbits' feet like the beat of her own heart. 'If you call it a belief.'

The sun dipped low by the time she knocked back the arrow, the feathers ghosting her cheek. Another breath and another release. The short whimpering of a dying animal, and she scampered forth. The rabbit lay on its side, its eyes wide and panicked; her arrow protruded from its side, just behind its front leg, and while clearly draining away, its legs continued to twitch and jerk, searching for the ground, for escape, for life. Her eyebrows knit carefully. A tanned hand drew out a short, slick knife and sliced through the animal's neck with practiced precision. As blood piled out in waves and the animal's eyes glazed over, she held her hands in her lap and waited silently. Her eyes closed as she hummed soft and low in her throat.

"Thank you." Her father hadn't always taught her to appreciate the kills. Most of the time, he considered it too sentimental for a world such as theirs. But Eda couldn't help it at times. Times such as this one where she felt solace and comfort in the land she hunted. "All for a simple question," she murmured bleakly. "If father could see me now." She tilted the animal's head back to open the wound further and lifted the body by the hind legs. In silence, she removed her arrow, cleaned it on her trousers and returned it to her quiver.

They didn't trust her because she didn't have morals—according to their standards, anyway. She had threatened their company with discovery—and possibly death—and so she was tolerated to stay in exchange for silence. Eda knew it couldn't last, however. It would only take a matter of time and worn patience before the dwarves found some method to oust her. Preferably not a violent method, but she couldn't feel certain.

"I could always lie," she spoke to the rabbit. Like nearly everyone else that day, it did not respond. She sighed heavily and sat morosely on the forest floor. "Or perhaps tell the truth. But what would I say? 'Don't worry. I was only kidding about ruining your plans. It's only for want of a better life that I am so determined to join your quest for treasure.'" She groaned. "I don't see what it matters, either. It's not as if I am the only one here for riches." Her mood significantly curdled as she sulked, and her headache sapped on the frustration. For all the attempts of deep, calming breaths, Eda found little peace. Cursing the dwarves and herself, she grabbed the catch and marched back to camp.

"You're late." Thorin barked the moment she appeared. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, and she nearly threw the rabbit at Bombur's feet.

"I don't recall a deadline," she bit back despite herself. Her headache started a ferocious drumbeat against her skull.

"I will not—" she turned away and darted for the trees. The murderous look in his eyes had awoken her sense with a terrified jolt. If he started again on trying to be rid of her, she wasn't sure she could hold out. And she must hold out. She darted between tree trunks and leapt brambles and fallen trunks, desperate to find somewhere just far enough away to be safe. Her breathing came jagged and infrequently till she stopped in the shadow of an old oak. The world returned to her with bird whistles and the subtle, ubiquitous murmuring of wind across tree leaves.

"That was mature," she choked out crossly. The sun had made its farewell sometime during her run, and she closed her eyes for just a second to gather herself. Night brought cooler air, yet it still felt pleasant and damp. Her gut wretched at the thought of returning while her feet made decisive steps back the way she had come. Though for all her luck, she thought darkly, they'll have taken the opportunity to disappear.

* * *

><p>Eda hadn't truly expected an empty camp when she finally broke the forest edge. Immediately, her stomach lurched and her heart plummeted in fear they actually had left. Only when she caught a glimpse of firelight did her fingers stop twitching anxiously. The fire simmered under the remnants of a stew. Bowls rested on the ground in varying states of completion.<p>

Without a word, Eda hurried to her pack and pulled out an extra knife. She grabbed a piece of wood from the pile and held it to the flames. Dried kindling and some calculated breaths helped the piece catch fire. Eda held her impromptu torch carefully and stepped around the camp, her eyes searching the numerous tracks on the ground. Boot prints stamped on top of each other. "A rush," she whispered. Tracks lead to the horses tied nearby while others thundered into the forest. She followed the ghosts, keeping low to the ground.

The fire of her torch dimmed, and she scrambled to follow the direction. Luckily, the dwarves had hardly aimed to hide. Broken branches littered their path. She thrust the log into the soft ground, smothering the last of the fire, and stood completely still.

A cacophony had erupted in the distance to her south. The twigs whipped her face as she dashed towards the sound. Just outside the reach of the firelight, she skidded to a stop, her heart seizing in her chest. The cries were battle cries—mixed, more or less, with the furious and pained yelps from the massive trolls. From her place in the shadows, Eda could see the fight unfolding. Three trolls, each more grotesque than the last, yet stubbornly impervious to death as the dwarves continued to hack and swing at every available moment. And suddenly it stopped. Eda blinked and squinted at the figure clutched between two of the trolls.

"Bilbo." Her voice trembled and shot louder than she had anticipated. Luckily, Kili had spoken at the same time. Unfortunately, that same dwarf also appeared to recognize a part of the sound was not his own. She froze as his eyes searched the land. They landed on her. For what felt like minutes, they simply stared at each other, neither quite sure what to do.

"Lay down your arms!" One of the trolls demanded. Kili's attention snapped back to the hobbit. "Or we'll rip 'is off." All Eda could see was the back of dwarf heads, and she felt terrified for it. Surely, they wouldn't let him die, she told herself nervously. It wasn't until she heard the clang of swords dropping that she felt her heart release. It seized right back, however, when the trolls lunged upon the group, each grabbing a dwarf and making work of shoving them into bags. Her mind started whirring through options, plans and prayers. At that moment, Kili's eyes had found her again. She couldn't help but feel his dark expression was seared into her mind as she took off into the forest.

* * *

><p>Kili's anger threatened to boil over when the woman disappeared. While initially surprised to find her face hidden in the shadows, the shock had worn off in place of irritation. How long had she been hiding and why had she not come out to save Bilbo or help them? He felt his teeth grinding before a coarse, gruff hand seized him around the middle, bound his limbs in coarse twine and dropped him into a burlap bag. The strings fastened tight around his neck before the troll tossed him lackadaisically into the pile of his kin.<p>

For those left, the trolls stripped their clothes and made a surprisingly professional practice of fastening them to a log. Two trolls held them suspended while the third arranged the spit and wheel.

"Place them gently," one of them ordered. "I don't want any bruising on my meat."

"What difference does it make?" The first one struck the questioning troll with a spoon, sending him whimpering to the side.

"You shut up and mind the fire," the first snapped. To the other, he said, "and keep them turning nice and slowly for an even roast." Every dwarf in a bag tried to fidget, searching for a way out. In the rush to gather the group, many had foregone their full gear in favour of a large, immediate weapon. They were all regretting such haste now.

"Don't bother cookin', 'em." Kili turned away from the trolls and tried his best to ignore the words. Thorin lay behind him, a dark, steady gaze on his face as he stared into some unknown distance. If it weren't for the restrained fidgeting, Kili would have thought his uncle had simply resigned to his fate as a troll feast. Yet Thorin's struggle gave his nephew strength and a great deal of hope—enough to continue his own, distinctly less secretive, fight for freedom. Somehow they would think of a way out, he thought confidently. The dwarves would not be so easily outdone, surely. He held to this hope as he tried to free his hands.

"Wait!" Bilbo shouted. "You are making a terrible mistake!" Dori yelled something about half-wits, but Kili heard grunts and shuffling above him. The hobbit hopped forward in his bag and stood before the trolls. "I meant with the seasoning."

"What about the seasoning?' One of the trolls challenged. Bilbo tried to shove his terror and disgust aside. His mind rushed to respond.

"Well have you smelled them? You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up." The heap of wrapped dwarves started to agitate with indignant shouts.

"What do you know about cooking, dwarf?" Another troll spat. Bilbo hopped forward a few steps, trying to buy himself time while his mind scampered over options. The earlier troll was right in thinking dawn was near, but Bilbo couldn't be certain of exactly how far away it was—nor how much time it would take for it to reach them. He needed something that took time, something that would inconvenience them. If it happened to free someone from their sack for the briefest chance at escape, then that couldn't hurt either. But what exactly would do such a thing? He knew he had the trolls' attentions; one of them had bent close to him with an attentive curiosity. He could hear the rattling breaths through the thick throat and smell the creature's body like he'd washed in water of feces and rotted meat.

"The secret to cooking dwarf is, uhm." 'Come on now,' he thought sharply. 'Think!' The trolls started to pester, and he could feel his mouth fumbling words. "Is, uh. Yes, the secret is." He stared hard into the distance, his jaw slack. At last his mind clicked. "To skin them first!" Behind him, outrage broke out. Bilbo tried his best to ignore the threats hailing his way. 'Long time, tedious,' he reminded himself. Hopefully this would do the trick.

As the trolls debated the cooking suggestion, Bilbo took the moment to look around. Their weapons lay in a discarded heap on the other side of the fire—too far away to get to in time even if he'd had free hands. All of a sudden, one of the swords disappeared wordlessly into the bush. Bilbo blinked furiously. Higher up, a familiar form with a pointed hat flitted briefly into view then disappeared into the thicket. 'Gandalf,' the hobbit felt a swell of courage and relief. If he could only stall a little longer. But one of the trolls had lost his patience, and the dwarves shouted in a mix of horrified anger as Bombur was hoisted above a gaping mouth.

"N-not that one," Bilbo rushed. "He's infected!" The troll let out a cry of surprise.

"You what?"

"He's got worms in his, uh, tubes." It did the trick as Bombur came crashing to the ground—more specifically on top of his comrades. Bilbo seized the opportunity. "In fact they all have! They're infested with parasites! It's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it. I really wouldn't." All his thrilled adrenaline evaporated at the boisterous protests behind him. Couldn't they shut up for just a moment? His expression soured, and he longed to kick all of them where they lay. Then a moment of silence before,

"I've got parasites the size of my arm!" And so came forth the most proliferate bodily confessions. Unfortunately, the trolls seemed suspicious of their abrupt turn, and Bilbo felt his mind grasping at ideas with less zeal. Surely Gandalf had a plan. When one of the trolls asked if they should simply release the company, Bilbo gave a small shrug and a blasé "well." A heavy hand shoved him roughly in the chest, and Bilbo indignantly squeaked out "ferret?" before Gandalf's voice swelled over the camp.

"The dawn will take you all!" He appeared with the sunlight at his back. Everyone, trolls included, squinted up at him.

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat him too?"

Gandalf raised his staff high and brought it down with a critical crack upon the rock. It split instantly, bathing them in fresh sunlight. Bilbo had never before felt so happy to feel sunlight on his face, and the camp erupted into cheers as the last centimeters of the trolls twitched into solid stone. Hardly a second had passed before the sack abruptly loosened and collapsed to a puddle of fabric around his feet. He turned to see the woman moving towards the dwarves hung over the fire.

Bilbo rushed to Gandalf who appeared out of the trees and smiled at him.

"I see you are making some new friends," the wizard jested. "I might recommend avoiding those who would try to eat you, however." Behind them, Bilbo heard grunts and a few curses as Eda worked through the ropes. Gandalf gestured to the fire, and the hobbit hurried to drown it in dirt. The dwarves dropped to the ground and made direct lines for their comrades. As Eda crouched down and started to cut through Fili's sack, Bilbo caught the glint of a dwarf sword upon her back. She had been the one in the bushes, he realized.

"Step away from my brother," Kili almost yelled. Freed from his own prison, the brunette dwarf nearly pushed the woman away from Fili, helping the blond to his feet himself. Her expression creased with something between hurt and annoyance.

"What is going on?" Thorin stepped in. The other dwarves stood silently. Each wore a different level of confusion.

"I saw this woman in the forest, hiding like a coward amongst the trees while we were tied up by the trolls." Kili said heatedly. He pointed a finger at her. "How long were you cowering in the shadows? I would wager you saw everything and never thought to help." Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her fingers curled into fists. "Yet here you are after we are saved. Perhaps you waited to see if we would die so you could travel to Erebor alone and steal our gold." He looked to his uncle. "Contract or no, this woman is a coward and untrustworthy, and she is unfit for our company."

Silence washed over the camp in the wake of his words. Amongst the anger churning her thoughts, his words rang in her ears. At some point during his tirade, her eyes had turned downwards and fixated upon the boot-prints in the ground. She tried to distract herself by putting names, faces, to the treads, but somehow his voice wormed past all her efforts. Several dwarves drilled heated stares into her. If he was right, Kili's anger was adequately placed. When she didn't speak up, the dwarves began to shift. Some anxiously, others angrily.

"What do—"

"Thorin, let us move elsewhere to discuss this," Gandalf suggested quickly. She moved stiffly behind the two males. Kili's eyes bore into her as he stomped behind her, clearly determined he should be involved in this discussion. Only a few meters away from the group, Eda felt her eyes finally lift up and meet Thorin's. His eyes were dark and guarded, and his mouth set in a grim line.

"Kili, I believe there's been a grave misunderstanding." All eyes turned to the wizard who leaned upon his staff. "Miss Eda did not abandon you nor sit idly in the shadows." She started to nervously stretch her fingers at her sides, using her thumb to crack first her pointer then middle, ring then pinkie finger. After the first round, they made no noise, but she continued anyway.

"I saw her in the trees." Kili shot her a dark look. "And I saw her run away."

"She ran to find me," Gandalf explained hurriedly. "If I remember correctly," he paused to look at Thorin, "she has tracked me before. When she saw I was not in the fray, she left to find me."

"Rather than fight," Thorin didn't say it as a question or challenge, but his eyes demanded an answer. She swallowed.

"I only heard the fight. By the time I arrived, you were throwing down your weapons." She shot a retaliatory, biting look at Kili. "If I rushed in on my own, what good would it do? Either Bilbo would have been hurt, or I would have faced three trolls alone. I made a a decision to leave and find help." She held Kili's gaze and practically glared at the dwarf. "And I stand by it."

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><p>I was quite nervous about this whole part. Hope you liked it.<p> 


	10. Choices We Make

A/N: Thank you to 19seventythree and sarah0406 for your support. Thanks to everyone who reads.

Disclaimer: I am not Tolkein, and I don't own The Hobbit.

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><p>Eda walked paces on the ground, hands at her side and cracking her fingers anxiously. Someone uttered a harsh jibe about her wearing a track into the ground and ruining his nerves, but she didn't look up to see who. It didn't matter in any case, she figured. Her fate currently rested in Thorin Oakenshield's hands. The dwarf king and wizard stood further off to her east. Their backs faced her, only ratcheting her anxiety higher and quickening her pace until she felt nearly dizzy. The rest of the company had collected their weapons and clothes and waited for the two to return.<p>

"That's mine." Eda spun and found herself facing Fili. His eyes were darkened by the same distrust as his brother. Her eyebrows knitted with confusion, and he pointed at her shoulder. "My sword." She had completely forgotten about the piece strapped loosely over her shoulder. Her mouth shaped an apologetic "oh" and she rushed to remove it. He took it silently, returning it to its sheath. As he turned to walk away, she felt her hand fist around a handful of his cloak.

"W-wait," she whispered. "C-can I speak with you?" He seemed less than inclined. "Just for a moment. I promise." His eyes racked over her face, her teeth biting nervously into her bottom lip and the stress peeling at her eyes. He nodded curtly and followed her to a private distance.

"I-I." She let out a frustrated sigh, shifting on her feet while a hand tugged her braid. Fili folded his arms and fixed her with a stare she promptly avoided. "Uh, I wanted to ask why you, uh, why you haven't told anyone I can't read…much."

His eyes held carefully, not yielding a syllable of his thoughts. He let her stew for a moment before replying curtly, "We made an agreement. Dwarves believe in honour and holding to our word. And a signed contract is binding even if the person cannot comprehend it." The words hit of a double meaning. Eda let out a shaking breath.

"Look, I didn't hide to watch you die," she rushed. "And I didn't mean to threaten your party like I did." She at last made eye contact and found his expression betraying curiosity. "I would never put my sins to another's throat." She made sure to hold his eye and speak with as much force as she could muster. "I made a mistake when I said it, I know, and I know you have no reason to trust me—especially given what I stand accused of. But I spoke from desperation, not malice. I was afraid of losing a share of the treasure…" Words ceased, and the pair studied each other cautiously. Fili's eyes flickered with something like disdain.

"Are riches all you think of?" Bewilderment clipped his words. Surely, as a dwarf, he understood the allure of gold and wealth, but that was not the only reason the company stood beside Thorin. And Fili knew if it came to all the gold in Erebor or the life of his fellows, he would readily watch every last gold coin disappear.

"My family cannot eat love nor buy clothes with hope," she replied honestly. "I-I may not have the same grand values as yourself or your kin. Perhaps my reasons for joining your company are less admirable." She drew in a breath. "But they are of no more ill-will or danger than the love of honour and kin." Her courage sparked. "When it comes to the very root, we are all driven by a love of home."

Fili nodded slowly. "You would have done better to make this explanation before the entire company," he remarked dryly. She couldn't help but laugh nervously.

"Perhaps I shall tell each of you individually. By the end, it could be quite poetic," she hazarded a joke to find his eyes lighting a little and the hint of a smile beneath his moustache.

"In that case, you must give your perfected rendition to Kili or Dwalin as both are convinced you are completely bereft of integrity." The words nearly gutted her though she knew she should have expected such. Even after Gandalf's explanation of her disappearance during the troll adventure, Kili retained his wariness of her. Eda didn't know whether to trust him to explain the situation honestly to the other dwarves—even if such an explanation would make a difference. Fili, she could tell, still didn't like her, but the hostility had receded, and she welcomed it like a strong fire in the midst of a northern winter.

"I can only hope Thorin will not tie me to a tree and leave me here," she replied. Humor did a poor job of covering the nerves in her voice and the way her eyes flickered.

"He wouldn't tie you to a tree," Fili assured her. "Someone would knock you unconscious and leave you on a doorstep." He gave her a guarded smile. "We aren't heartless."

"I'm leaving now," she announced flatly, though she smiled as she walked away. It felt like stretching her legs after a long, cramped sleep to speak to someone, anyone, and have them respond with any degree of cordiality. She knew Bilbo tried his best, but her dark mood towards the dwarves had made her less than appealing. Away from Fili's polite conversation, she met a crowd of skeptical stares.

"Where is Thorin?" She dared to ask. Balin let out a sigh, his hands clasped in front of his stomach.

"They have gone to the troll hoard," he replied. His voice contained neither malice nor warmth, but she followed the direction of his finger. The others had started in the same direction.

"Thank you," she murmured sincerely.

"You did right, lassie," Balin's voice stopped her short. "To get Gandalf. We know that." He cocked his head and shot her a piercing look. "But a right choice doesn't make a good person." Her heart's tempo jolted like a frightened hare. His eyes didn't show any hatred, pity, contempt, love or amusement. If anything, their frankness unnerved her more for it felt like he was looking, simply looking at her without any fog of subjectivity. He didn't give her a chance to respond and strode after the others. She stood alone in the woods with a question, no answer and the stark reality of the grave importance of her next move.

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><p>Though she would likely never know it, it was Gandalf's support that saved her from Thorin exiling her—by whatever verbal or physical means required. Once she had left them to privacy, it was Gandalf's insistence on trust that Thorin yielded. His words and no small manner of angry passion. He never answered Thorin when asked why he was so insistent on keeping her. He knew he could tell Thorin of their days spent together in the woods, to say he had seen her honesty and heard stories of her family—the people she valued—but to reveal another lie to the dwarf seemed most unwise—even if Gandalf hadn't sworn to secrecy.<p>

He knew Kili's accusations rang strongly in Thorin's own thoughts. For such a small band of travelers, loyalty was supreme. For dwarves, especially, fealty and honor dominated their lives; for was it not in some part Thorin's pride and the kin's injured dignity that drove them to reclaim their home? From father to son, stories of their lost grandeur. Specifically for Thorin, Gandalf knew the dwarf king carried the history of his father and grandfather upon his shoulders. Yet it was never considered a burden by the dwarves. Only to Gandalf, who had to deal with the dwarf's stubborn grudges.

And so, for them to think they had someone in their midst who would readily abandon them—whether for personal safety or coin—struck like the gravest of dangers and insults. But Gandalf knew the woman had values, even if they did not flow from the same noble, historical tributaries as the dwarves. And they did not make her any less of value. If anything, the wizard felt they perhaps put her nearer to the dwarves than they or she could possibly ever realize.

When at last Thorin begrudgingly consented to keeping her, he and Gandalf had departed in search of the troll's hoard. A few of the dwarves accompanied them in, and others warily stood away from the putrid cavern. Again, Thorin's temper struck when he nearly threw down a beautiful elven sword for no crime other than the race of its creators. Gandalf barked harshly at him, his patience bearing thin, and watched with some self-satisfaction as the dwarf was forced to appreciate the blade.

Upon stepping back into the sunlight, Gandalf called Bilbo over to him. Thorin's earlier comment about the Halfling's use in battle had not gone unnoticed—even if Gandalf had been quick to defend the hobbit. He could not forget the way his stomach had seized when Eda had appeared behind him in the night, winded and wheezing as she struggled to shove out the words. "They're in danger." He had immediately returned with her, grateful he'd chosen to turn back earlier and was much closer to the camp than he'd been an hour previous. She tried to explain what little she knew between heaving breaths as they ran. All of Gandalf's mind focused on a curly-haired hobbit he had found in the Shire. He had never promised Bilbo would be safe. He knew no such promises could ever be made. Yet that didn't keep him from wanting to do everything within his power to keep Bilbo alive. Not only to keep his conscience from one more burden, but to keep one more good thing in the world.

And as he thought of what danger may come, he felt even more resolved in handing Bilbo the elven blade. Gandalf almost smiled softly at the hobbit's uncomfortable refusal. He had never expected Bilbo to welcome a sword; perhaps when he was younger, he would have brandished a wooden one in his forest adventures, but that was much different from unsheathing a real weapon.

"And I hope you never have to," he said gently, honestly. "But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life but when to spare one." Bilbo looked lost for words. A shout of alarm pierced a hole in their silence, the following clamour running a serrated blade through to let fresh waves of apprehension upon them. Gandalf shouted for them to take up arms and stay together, hurrying forward whilst drawing his own sword. Yes, the world needed more good things.

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><p>"Who do you reckon he is?" Bofur chimed. All eyes followed the stout, peculiar fellow as he trailed Gandalf. It made for quite a sight, Gandalf's grey, lengthy stature beside the short man wrapped in brown and furs.<p>

"Radagast the brown," Bilbo answered. "Gandalf told me earlier. He's a wizard." Several eyebrows shot up at the idea. Having seen the man's queer trick of dropping insects from his mouth, they felt inclined to doubt the man's sanity. The dwarves peeked down the hill at the pair before Thorin ordered them to prepare to leave. They scattered to their various chores; some collected their goods or organized their packs while Thorin sent Bifur and Ori to the horses.

A neat distance from the group, Eda crouched down by the sleigh. Her hand reached out, and she cooed softly. Radagast's rabbits were mammoth in comparison to her usual quarry, and she felt a child-like need to touch one. She had purposefully left her bow and arrow on a bed of moss atop a fallen tree trunk, in full view of the animals' keen eyes. Perhaps they didn't know the purpose of it, but she felt the gesture helped her feel better anyway. And something in their large eyes spoke of reckoning.

Her fingertips stilled several decimeters from one rabbit's nose. He twitched, standing on his hind legs and staring at her cautiously.

"Don't be afraid," she whispered. "I won't hurt you." She smiled. "I promise. And an Eda never breaks her promises." His large ears swiveled in her direction, but he didn't come closer. She took a small step forward, still hunched over her knees, and strained to ghost her fingers closer.

At that second, a howl cracked through the air. Eda shot straight up, thoughts of touching the gigantic rabbits gone like a wisp of smoke in a hurricane. She ran to her bow, grabbing it as she jumped over the fallen tree and bolted the short distance to the group. She broke into the diminutive clearing with barely a second to realize Kili's arrow pointed straight at her. Her legs gave out and she dropped to the ground, her mouth inhaling deep gulps of dirt and damp air. The howl of the warg shot through, and she glanced over her shoulder in time to see it crashing into a tree, an arrow buried in its skull.

"Warg scouts," Thorin declared, yanking his blade from a warg corpse. "Which means an orc pack is not far behind." Eda raised to her feet but felt like she'd somehow left all her organs on the ground. Bilbo beat her to it.

"Orc pack?"

"Who did you tell about your quest beyond your kin?" Gandalf strode up to Thorin.

"No one," declared the dwarf.

"Who did you tell?" Gandalf's voice raised with impatience. Thorin's vehemence matched.

"No one, I swear!" The dwarves all looked to Thorin for answers though he had none to give. "What in Durin's name is going on?"

"You're being hunted." Her chest could barely fill with air through her subtle trembling. 'Orc pack,' she thought. A traveler, she wasn't unaccustomed to danger or fights. But an orc pack. A pack hunting them. 'Being left on a doorstep sounds like a nice idea about now.'

"We need to get out of here."

"We can't!" It was Ori and Bifur scrambling into view. "We have no ponies. They bolted." Fili rushed to his uncle's side, Kili not far behind, both wearing looks of grim fortitude—although no small amount of uncertainty. Dwalin had taken to cursing, and Gloin had jumped down from his perch. Without any sense of where the pack was, making any decision of direction felt like a gamble with all their lives.

"I'll draw them off." It was Radagast who spoke up.

"These are Gundabad wargs!" Gandalf turned to his friend. "They will outrun you."

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits." The man's voice held gravity, and his eyes darkened with a sort of dark determination. "I'd like to see them try." For a second, the group felt a chance of hope—even if it still felt foolish at the sight of the man jumping on the back of his sleigh. Without a word, the brown wizard pulled away, disappearing into the thick green ocean of the forest. They all fell silent.

"Quick!" Gandalf broke into a run and everyone followed. More howls erupted, drumbeats to the morose song of their swift footsteps and rapid breathing. Fortune smiled upon them, however, as they breached the forest's edge without a single encounter. In the distance, they could hear Radagast's yells mingling under the warg snarls. They ran fast and low, weaving between the rocks and always taking a look around the corners. Radagast proved true to his pride; the wargs were fast, always within a competitive distance, but he and his rabbits dodged the jaws with daring and no short matter of skill.

Unfortunately, his wild paths often forced them to stop or back-track, and Eda felt heartily disoriented after their third turn-around. They ran over the open grass but diverted to hide against a rock when Radagast streaked across the horizon. Eda gulped down air, and she could hear Bilbo similarly heaving beside her. Everyone fell silent, though, the second they heard paws behind their head and a gut-wrenching growl. Thorin looked to his youngest nephew, and Kili nodded. It took only a matter of seconds for him to ready his arrow and step away from the rock. A single shot, and the air ricocheted with the furious howls.

Eda ducked as the warg came tumbling down over their heads. The orc leapt to his feet but was no match for the company's numbers nor fury.

"It made noise," breathed the woman in utter horror. Her eyes widened and one hand instinctively clutched her knife while the other grabbed Bilbo's hand. She took in air, at first willing her heart to calm then telling it to disappear all together. For now was not the time.

Growls, howls and battle cries exploded around them. Gandalf shouted what everyone thought. "Move. Run!" They took off. Subtly gave to the need for speed. They ran through the yellow grass with abandon. At every crest of a hill, Eda would hear someone shout the dreaded words "there they are!" and they would try for another course. Until the very last when everyone stopped. No one looked in the exact same spot, and yet everyone had the same view: wargs and orcs creeping closer. They were surrounded.

Kili shouted something, and Thorin yelled back to shoot them. It had come to it. Fighting. Nowhere left to run. Eda sheathed her knife and removed her bow, knocking back an arrow before her nerves could catch up. Her first arrow caught a warg in the eye, and it crumpled.

'It's hunting,' she told herself. Her heartbeat measured her breaths, and her fingers tightened around her bow. 'Hunting.' Another arrow and an orc fell from his disgusting mount. But somewhere she knew it wasn't. Rabbits didn't hunt you back. And deer didn't kill you when you ran out of arrows. She took a step back and fired an arrow at the closest warg. Yet they kept coming; it was like trying to fight a tide.

"He's abandoned us!" Dwalin's voice rang out gruffly.

"Hold your ground!" Another arrow, another breath. Her fingers shook as she reached into her quiver. How many arrows did she have left? Her heart skipped and thudded to a stony stop when they felt nothing for seconds. Then a fistful of feathers and she yanked one out. 'Don't count,' she ordered. "Shoot." She breathed out and let the arrow fly into the chest of the nearest orc.

"This way, you fools!" Her eyes darted back to the familiar grey and pointed hat. The dwarves needed no encouragement and instantly ran for the rock. Eda let off another arrow and followed suit, stopping only when Thorin yelled out a familiar name.

"Kili! Run!" She skidded to a stop, her eyes searching the tall grass until they landed on his form. Behind him, the wargs had started to run.

"Kili! Watch out!" She shouted before loosing an arrow. He cut to the side as the arrow shot past, imbedding itself in a warg's throat. With the other orcs a safe distance behind, she ran to the rock and dropped into the darkness.


	11. Second Chances

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Tolkein.

Note: I am uploading this using my phone because internet is out. I will correct the past chapter once I can.

This chapter contains description of skinning and preparing an animal. You have been forewarned. :)

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><p>Never in her life would Eda have imagined hiding in a cavern with thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard listening blindly to a battle thundering above. Yet she found herself exactly there and a second wish for a quiet home passing her mind. Maybe they were right to send her off; she couldn't keep the doubt nibbling at the fringes of her mind.<p>

Dwalin shouted at them from further down the cavern to which the company started eagerly down the pass. Cragged rocks bit at their clothes and scraped their sides, but the company made it out safely to open air.

Eda felt a swell of relief and dread rising from her toes to the coarse ends of her hair.

Effortless curves of white and elegant, domed roofs stretched out in front of them. The greenery of the surrounding crags and mountains trickled down and wove through the buildings like a verdant river. On the whole, the sight seemed seamlessly natural, as if the mountains came into being with the settlement already in place. Bilbo said the name on everyone's mind—though perhaps with a touch more awe than some dwarves appreciated. When the company started to move down the rock and towards Rivendell, Eda failed to move, her feet rooted to the spot. In her dealings, she'd brushed against the creatures in almost every manner imaginable—acquaintance, comrade, enemy or simply nothing at all. She rarely kept in touch, however, for the same reason she avoided sharing her name with certain lines of men: some people had long, good memories.

Gandalf glanced at her hesitation before nudging her gently with his hand. "You did not fight so desperately to stay in this company only to be left behind for staring," he reminded. She scurried to catch up to the others while Gandalf passed the ranks to take the front.

Despite her apprehension, she couldn't help but admire the tended gardens and pristine beauty. They collected before a steep staircase, and the dwarves ambled around—silently, for once—to stare in every direction. A voice called out something Eda did not recognize, and the attentions turned towards the stairs. A tall, lean elf descended towards them, cloaked in rich hues of deep purple. Gandalf gave a sound of recognition. Eda took the assumption they exchanged greetings and sought to hide herself behind Dwalin's large stature. As it was, the dwarf paid her little attention, instead leaning in for Thorin's confidence.

A horn wailed in the distance followed by the clamor of horse hooves on stone.

"Close ranks!" Thorin barked. The woman took the opportunity to duck into the middle of the huddled mass, keeping her head low and her face downturned. She didn't share the dwarves' suspicion—after all, the elf and Gandalf appeared familiar—but she welcomed any noise from the dwarves that would help her pass unnoticed. Gloin growled behind her, and she could see the dwarves jostling apprehensively as the horses circled them in tight precision. And all came to an abrupt stillness. Again, she heard Gandalf's voice—though this time she felt he spoke a word she knew. Her head buzzed from trying to pick out words, but she remembered "orc," "we" and "near." The elf's next words came in common tongue.

"Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders." He stepped past Gandalf. "Something, or someone, has drawn them near."

"That may have been us." Gandalf gestured to their huddled group. The dwarves parted as a very grave Thorin stepped forward. The elf did not loose a second in surprise, stepping forward and greeting Thorin by name. Thorin gave a curt reply to which the elf replied confidently. For every answer, Thorin appeared to have a sharp, unyielding answer, and his comrades seemed either unnerved, defiantly proud or a combination of the two as they waited through the exchange. When the elf broke from common tongue, the feelings stiffened and darkened. Gloin blustered forward, yelling about insults and brandishing a fist.

"No, Master Gloin, he is offering you food," Gandalf interrupted with exasperated annoyance. The dwarves turned in upon themselves, muttering hurriedly in their own tongue while Eda and Bilbo awkwardly waited. Gloin gave the verdict, and Eda felt her stomach give a happy grumble. 'Food,' she smiled despite herself. 'Peace.'

They hurried up the stairs with renewed vigor. None of the dwarves seemed wary or uncomfortable with gruffly unloading their goods into a heap on the stone floor. Their weapons, however, stayed securely attached, and their eyes kept wary.

"Don't be ridiculous," Gandalf huffed. "Set aside your weapons for one evening. You are amongst friends now." Thorin locked eyes on him with a challenge, and the two said nothing for near a minute.

"If you would prefer to leave your valuables locked in your rooms," the elf started, stepping forward and address Thorin with a firm gaze. "I can have your company escorted there before the evening meal." Thorin nodded his head only once, his jaw set tightly in silence. The elves who had arrived to retrieve their bags from the ground stepped forward and bowed their heads softly. "Follow them, please, and I will speak with Gandalf until you return." The dwarves set off in the smooth trail of the elves. Eda had ended up between Bilbo and Oin. One appeared enraptured by the sights while the other wore skeptical disdain. Neither reaction particularly surprised the woman, but she kept silent.

Whenever they passed tall, arched doors of carved wood, an elf would stop to open the door and escort two of the dwarves inside. From her passing glances, each room appeared similarly refined and polished, furnished with two beds and end tables. 'Two to a room,' Eda calculated. 'With any luck, I'll be the last one and get my own room.' And that thought slowed her steps till she drifted at the end of the group. She was wrong, however, and the final three, herself, stood in stilted silence before the last door of the hall.

Her eyes flicked nervously between the impassive faces of Balin and Dwalin. 'This couldn't get worse.'

"This leaves us with quite a predicament," Balin said plainly. His hands clasped in front of his stomach and his eyes shot to the woman and dwarf standing opposite him yet a pointed distance from each other. The woman attempted a hopeful smile despite her better judgment.

"I suppose sharing is—"

"Out of the question!" Dwalin thundered, his shoulders tensing. "Even if you weren't a woman—"

"I meant you and Balin, you oaf!" Her temper spat out. Dwalin silenced yet his glare remained upon the girl who raised her hands to rub her eyes tiredly. "I-I'm so—"

"One of us will simply sleep on the ground. If we stay longer than one night, we can alternate," Balin suggested. "Perhaps at dinner we can request another bed—"

"Room." Dwalin interjected.

"How will we decide?" The woman's voice came out hesitant, as if she already knew what awaited her. When neither dwarf volunteered an option, she cracked a weak grin. "How 'bout we flip coin?"

"How 'bout we duel?" Dwalin's pointed stare and folded arms landed heavily on the woman's shoulders. She waved her hands furiously through the air, saying something about unnecessary measures.

"Oi, Balin, Dwa—" the three, new roommates pivoted to see Fili and Kili in their open doorframe. Fili's hand rested over the wood, ready to knock, but it dropped when they took stock of the room's occupants. "What is going on?" Eda let out a dejected huff and threw her pack onto the ground with surprising vehemence.

"Nothing," she replied heatedly. "Simply getting my bed ready for the night." Both princes paused to gather what she meant, their eyes swiveling from the discarded pack to the two older dwarves. Balin wore a discomforted expression while Dwalin's face betrayed little beyond a hard disapproval of the entire situation.

"What bed?" Kili asked. "That's the floor."

"Surely they have another room to spare," Fili trailed off. "A woman to share a room with two dwarves is unacceptable, but to only have two beds…"

"It's not a problem. It won't be much different from my time in the woods." Despite her efforts to inject cheer into her words, she felt the heavy, tugging of disappointment in her stomach. 'The beds look like heaven.' "I'd rather not bother our hosts over something so frivolous, especially not with tensions already high." She pulled off her gloves and rubbed her palms together. The friction brought not only warmth but distraction, and she kept her eyes decidedly away from the others'. She turned and smiled best she felt she could. "Let's go to food."

"Wait." Her foot had just passed the threshold when Fili held out a hand. "Even if you don't want to bother _them_, the floor is unacceptable hospitality." Kili nodded resolutely. The brunette's agreement abruptly ended when his brother said, "you should sleep in our room."

"What?" The younger dwarf's voice rocketed in shock. "Fee, what are—"

"We can easily share a bed, Kee. Therefore she could take the second bed." Fili matched his brother's stare.

"I do not want her in our room!" Kili insisted angrily.

"You would rather leave a woman to sleep on the floor?" Fili challenged calmly. Eda could see his big brother airs coming out. Not in a nasty or haughty way, but rather the way he somehow managed to deflate Kili's anger and still remain pensive and understanding. Kili crossed his arms in front of his chest but gave no other argument. "Come on, brother." Fili clapped a hand on Kili's shoulder and grinned. "We can show the greatest of our dwarvish nobility." Eda felt her face break into a sincere smile, and she brought them into a hug before she could think it through.

"Thank you!" She nearly laughed before dashing to grab her bag. 'A bed!' The dwarves in witness to her exuberance felt supremely perplexed, but Balin and Dwalin let the princes lead her to their room without argument, both feeling simply relieved to have a resolution that did not include them.

After depositing her things on the soft, clean comforter and nearly purring in anticipation of the sleep to come, they walked without a word to the dinner. Long, narrow tables hummed russet under the fading sunlight. Already, Oin, Balin and Dwalin had decided upon seats. Ori and Dori were taking theirs beside Bifur and Bombur when Eda reached the table. Normally, she would try to sit away from the campfire circle or find a place beside Bilbo or Gandalf. But such was impossible at a table of lined seats. Fili and Kili moved away and happily joined their kin, leaving the woman at a loss.

"Sit down, already," Gloin huffed from his brother's side. She dropped to the seat at the very end of the table, opposite Dori. Tuning into the conversation, she found the soft-mannered dwarf trying to pursuade his brother to try the leafy greens on his place. For his part, Ori showed no interest in entertaining such a notion and set the goods back on the plate without a taste.

"I don't like green food." All around, the dwarves abandoned subtly and let their discontentment fly open on the wind. Chief amongst the complaints was the lack of any meat—though Oin's protest of the music followed in a close second. She didn't mind the food but only picked at the pieces on her plate; in all the excitement of arriving in Rivendell—and the horror of what drove them there—she had yet to figure out her next move. Fili's words of leaving her on a doorstep shrilled more loudly in her ears now that they stood on elf lands. The dwarves may hate elves, but she was willing to wager her last coin that they would happily leave her behind if a chance presented itself. If she didn't act soon, that was.

She shoved a quick mouthful, grabbed some bread and darted off without a word. If she knew anything about the dwarves she had traveled with thus far, she knew they would not wait for the elves to improve the food. She ran down the hall and into her room, skidding across the smooth stone floor to grab her bow and quiver from the bed. Her hands shook but not from fear. She grinned. A course of adrenaline and determination sprang her steps as she bounded down the hall and out of sight; this was her chance for a peace offering.

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><p>"Oi, Bombur, get yer pot," Bofur called. The moon hung high in the sky, peeking out at the dwarves assembling in the empty room. Bifur spared no words and no wood when he started to promptly break a table into pieces and toss the fragments into a pile. Gloin set to searching his pockets for his tinderbox. Even without Thorin around to order them to duties, they all knew exactly what to do. Fili and Kili helped Ori collect tables and chairs—their fate as either firewood or utensils unknown for the present. Dori had gone to retrieve their food stores with Dwalin. The latter seemed most anxious to get proper food in his stomach, a sentiment shared by most of his comrades.<p>

The fire started to crackle and pop through the timber. Bombur returned with his pot and utensils to hear the dwarves debating what to cook. Or rather, what to cook first.

"Meat" was the general consensus, and Bofur pulled out sausages. They tasked Fili with cutting potatoes for a stew, and sent Nori to fetch water. Kili took a seat on a table against the wall and laughed as the dwarves let good-natured insults fly.

"Don't we have anything larger?" Dwalin asked, eyeing the sausages Bofur held over the fire. Ori's disappointed expression spoke to a similar feeling. "I'll be dead before we've finished eating through those."

"You could always cook yer own," Bofur retorted lightly. His fingers gently prodded the meat, testing its heat before setting it back over the fire.

"Don't go touchin' 'em," Dori exclaimed. "When was the last time you washed your hands?"

"Aye. It's a sausage, not yer wife," Gloin added with a smirk. The company laughed heartily.

"Are ya sure? It looks a little like yer own—" Bofur's remark was interrupted by hoots of laughter and Gloin's indignant shouts. To add to it, Bofur removed the sausage, handling it with a degree of daintiness before taking a hearty bite.

"Oi! I'm starving! Why do you get the first one?" Indignant hollers rose above the laughter. Bofur's answer jumbled around his mouthful of food, but it sounded something like 'chef gets first bite.' Bombur took the potatoes from a laughing Fili and dropped them into the water.

The cough caught Kili's attention first, and he nudged Bofur's shoulder with his foot. The noise dropped from the air when the dwarves turned to see Eda standing quietly in the shadows. She stepped closer to the fire, and their eyes dropped to the weight in her hand.

"Meat!"

The two rabbits and lone quail were promptly dispersed amongst the company for speedy preparation. At first Eda had wanted to laugh at their zeal, but their less than skilled efforts reined in the excitement.

"Wait!" She couldn't help but yelp as Dwalin placed her knife at the rabbit's neck. "Not like that." His eyes ran dark for a second before he let her take the rabbit from his hand. She managed a small smile, grateful he hadn't thrown his war hammer at her head. She took out her own knife. Bombur and Bofur paired off to pluck the quail, leaving her with a hungry, impatient and wary audience.

She breathed in and tightened her hold on her knife. "Like this," she said quietly. Her fingers delicately pinched the skin at the lower belly and she slid her knife in. "You don't want to hit the internal organs," she explained, making a straight, shallow line through the skin of the belly. Her fingers worked under the lining, gently tearing the skin from the flesh. "Okay." She looked up to see the dwarves looking a mix of disgust and impressed. 'Suppose they don't do much of it themselves,' she mused with a ghost of a grin. "You can use this line to pull the skin off." She showed Dwalin where to grasp, and the dwarf set to it without a word. The bare flesh of the rabbit flickered red and gold in the firelight.

As he went, Eda had turned to the other rabbit. Kili waited with knife in hand. Ori had stepped away, disgruntled by the sight and tended the fire with his back to the group. Her fingers made small red imprints on the rabbit's white belly when she puckered the skin. She gave Kili a nod and he carefully pierced it like parchment. She smiled, for once feeling closer to herself and let him take over with Fili.

Turning back to Dwalin, she told him t o remove the head and feet. He did so again without a single utterance, and Eda wondered if he was showing her some respect or simply pretending a disembodied voice instructed him. Gloin watched carefully as she showed them how to cut out the groin, anus and tail. Fili and Kili had rejoined silently to watch as she showed them how to cut the open the stomach to empty the innards.

"Check the internal organs for anything off," she told them before they returned to their own rabbit. Her own inspection showed no abnormalities and she told Dwalin to wash it with cold water. "Leave the other organs," she added as he took a pail of water from Nori and started to clean the animal.

"How long do we have to wait then?" Dwalin finally spoke. She smiled.

"As long as it takes to cook it."

One rabbit and the quail made it to a spit over the fire while the second rabbit joined the pot of potatoes. Eda sat on the ground beside Bofur and couldn't seem to wash the smile from her face. Though not the most well-seasoned, the group eagerly tore into the meat while Bofur kept a steady stream of sausages flowing to their plates.

She rolled up her sleeves and let her arms bask in the pleasant burn of the fire.

"Why, that much hair on yer arms, we'd think ya a dwarf maid," Bofur exclaimed with a laugh. Eda rolled her eyes and chuckled. A joke was not silence. And a joke was not politeness. The fire seeped closer to the back of her ribcage when hope had frozen.

"What are those?" Ori pointed to the thick leather bands wrapping around her left arm. Totalling six in number, the bracelets varied in width and detail. The first wrapped around her wrist whilst the last rested almost half-way up her forearm.

"I'll tell you," she said happily. "If you promise to share something of your culture in return." A few dwarves stiffened, not apparently keen on what that could mean. "Nothing secretive or anything," she promised. "But I want to learn more about you." She caught Fili's eye and made a purpose to look at Dwalin and Kili. "What's important to you." She didn't hear any refusals, and let a little hope tell her it was a silent agreement.

"These are different bands of families in the North. Families I have helped in one way or another." She could practically hear the question in the air. "Not necessarily by illegal means. My town, my people, take hospitality very seriously. Sometimes to complete strangers, we will offer food and a bed. For some people, if they feel particularly touched by the gesture, it is custom to make a leather band and fashion it with a family style."

She leaned forward and held her arm to the firelight. She pointed to the one at her wrist. A thin strap barely wider than her pinkie finger, it wrapped around and tied tightly in an intricate knot, the loose ends dangling several centimeters with two black beads tied to the ends. The next one held more handiwork; the creator had engraved a pattern of vines and stars along its band and sewn a single line of gold thread along one edge.

"It serves as a sign of gratitude and friendship. And a promise that they and their kin will always help when needed." A smile drifted across but her eyes strayed into memories, the nostalgic, peaceful kind that brought pangs of homesickness.

"How do you take them off?" Kili asked, tilting his head to look at the knots of each band.

"You don't."

"Ever?" Fili asked incredulously. Eda shook her head.

"Ever."

"You must be filthy under those things," Kili remarked. His voice still held to a general distrust, but she could see a bit of curiosity filling his eyes.

"So long as I never take them off, I'll never know," she shot back cheekily. Her hope buoyed as the twitch in the corner of his mouth, and a light chuckle from the group. "And now, it is your turn." The dwarves immediately turned into small, huddled beehives of Khudzul. They stopped with such sychronization it felt almost rehearsed, and Gloin started.

"You see how dwarf men have fantastic beards. Well, most of us—"at this Fili playfully shoved his brother, the odd man out. He appeared nonplussed, still smiling, though Eda could not stop the shot of sympathy. "In our culture, beards—or rather, hair—are very important." Eda pulled her knees to her chest and rested her arms around her legs. "To touch someone's hair is either a matter of great love or great insult."

"As are our braids," Bofur added. The crowd chorused agreements.

"What do the braids mean?" Eda asked with genuine curiosity, her hazel eyes wide and shining in the fire's glow.

"All braids mean different things. Either power, skills, status or occupation," Fili piped up.

"Certain braids are used for courtships and marriage," chimed Bofur happily.

"Yes." Gloin shot both dwarves a pointed stare to express his displeasure at being interrupted. "Only kin may braid hair or add new braids."

"Or a beloved." Bofur grinned like a cat around the end of his pipe. Despite Gloin's efforts, the dwarf seemed all too tickled to add a dash of fun and romance.

"You seem quite enthralled with the romantic notions of braids," Eda teased, her heart pounding as she tested the waters. For a second of his silence, her heart stopped.

"Aye, well, I do miss Gloin's wife very—"

"Alright, you!" Eda laughed harder than possibly necessary. Her fingers tingled but she knew it was simply the mirth of excitement shivering in her veins. She had made a joke. And they had responded. Her heart felt like it was swimming in a warm bath and she hugged her knees closer to her chest. 'Perhaps this could turn around,' she dared.

"Do you have anything like braids in your culture?" Ori whispered shyly, his eyes barely making it over the top of his book to reach her. She shook her head.

"But I wish we did," she confessed. The dwarves hushed, and Eda felt a wash of nerves. Had she said the wrong thing again? Then her eyes snagged on Kili's. From where he sat by the fire, she could see his intense concentration. But it wasn't angry. In fact, looking over every dwarf face, not a single expression rang of anger or insult. Rather they seemed almost flattered. 'Certainly proud,' she thought with a shy smile. 'But they wouldn't be dwarves without their pride.' Her lungs brimmed with a daring nerve.

"I, uh, w-wanted to say something," she tried to raise her voice though the relative quiet hardly called for it. "I misspoke earlier—or perhaps that's all I've been doing since I joined. I didn't mean to threaten your lives or quest." Several dwarves stiffened with stony faces. "I shouldn't have spoken so angrily or desperately. I have a family I love and a home I love, and I would never want to endanger someone else's on account of my wrongs." Her eyes whisked over the faces with such speed she felt they almost blurred into one unreadable collage. "I know you don't have a reason to trust me after what I said and everything. But I hope you will give me a second chance." Her thumb started to crack her fingers in a nervous tic.

"You're missing something," Fili said. She blinked, her mind reeling to try and decipher the words.

It clicked. "I'm sorry." Not to say the dwarves immediately broke out a merry band of hugs for her, but several faces softened. Some held to their defenses, but she took solace in the appreciative nods from the lot. Even Kili, with a slight nudging from his brother, yielded.

"Apology accepted," declared Dwalin gruffly. He bit into a rabbit's leg. She smiled.

"If I bring meat for every night we are to stay here, will that help?" She gambled hopefully. Bofur chortled.

"You'll need to bring more tomorrow," Kili pointed out, nodding a head in the direction of Bombur. She grinned. Bofur took the moment to test the latest sausage and sneak an inquisitive glance at the afore-mentioned red-head.

"Bombur, catch!" He tossed the sausage to Bombur's meaty hand. The table beaneath the dwarf's gigantic bum creaked just a second before it collapsed beneath him, spilling the dwarf and all his food onto the ground in a riotous round of laughter. Bofur fell to his side laughing; Bifur stayed at his perch by the fire, lettuce held in hand over the flames. For herself, Eda couldn't stop laughing even if she had wanted to.


	12. Inky Nights

Sorry!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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><p>"I didn't know women could make that noise."<p>

"Should we throw something at her?"

"I could throw an arrow."

"Throw or shoot an arrow, Kili?"

"However chance may choose."

It was an hour after their late-night feed had finished. The three had returned in a somewhat easy silence to their shared room and separated for their beds. Fili had been feeling the night went well—a properly riotous, dwarf affair—and his happiness kept him awake while the inky sky swirled outside. That had apparently been his mistake. Kili had been the first to point out the woman's even breathing. "It's been hardly a minute," he had said with a hint of jealousy.

"More like twenty, Kee," Fili had countered. They settled back into their soft conversations. Sharing the bed had felt more like a piece of a past home than anything else. From the moment Kili could part from their mother as a babe, he had slept in the same bed as Fili—with exceptions of times they were particularly rambunctious or disobedient. Yet even then, one would sneak to the other, and come morning their mother would discover them soundly asleep side by side.

When Fili had started to take on more responsibilities from his uncle and feel more like the heir of Durin than a young dwarf, he had moved to a separate room. Kili hadn't been fond of the idea, going so far as to suggest perhaps sharing a room if sharing a bed was abruptly too juvenile for them, but Thorin's early mornings became Fili's early mornings, and Kili loathed "unnatural" awakenings. Thus close quarters had supplanted their childhood proximity.

"You should put more braids in your hair," Fili had commented as he held a lock of his brother's brown hair between his fingers. Kili had cracked one eye open but said nothing. The earlier conversation of dwarf culture still bounced around the younger's head. Although he had appreciated—however begrudgingly—the woman's sincere curiosity and admiration of the traditions, the very conversation unnerved him the same as every other time. His brother knew of his self-consciousness around his hair—distinctly his lack of it.

Growing up, he had wanted the hair of spun gold like Fili's. When Fili's facial hair came in thick, powerful and just as golden, he remembered thinking excitedly of the time he would have the same. But his grew more slowly, and his young hope of replicating his brother's fantastic moustache dwindled. He covered the insecurity with jokes at first, and the jokes acted like chainmail, protecting him from the worst of the jibes and dismissals. Over time his skin hardened, and the words didn't sting as much. He knew he had in part his brother to thank for this. Fili had remained ever supportive and optimistic, ready to tease Kili to a smile while withering sincere detractors with a firey vengence. He was Kili's big brother, after all.

"When we've reclaimed our homeland, you can put all the braids you'd like within my hair," Kili had joked.

Fili had smirked. "What a daring offer, Kee—" they had stopped short as a noise landed on their ears.

"What in the name of Durin is that?" Fili had propped himself up by his elbow. Kili had rolled over onto his stomach, eyes alert under confusion.

"It's like a bear choking on pebbles." The air had filled with a rumbling inhale, and both brothers had stared in shock at the sleeping form on the other side of the room.

And thus there they were, staring at the young woman as her snores droned with every inhale, contemplating their options. Fili playfully shoved his brother's shoulder.

"I feel chance with you and Miss Eda's life is not a risk I would take," he quipped, leaving his brother to feign offense. "But we should likely do something. At this rate, Dwalin will come raging in with his hammer to slay the beast." Kili nodded. Fili nodded. Kili nodded again and issued a cross groan at his brother's pointed stare.

"Why should it fall to me?"

The question was barely finished out Kili's mouth when Fili shot back, "Because I am the older brother." He laid back on the bed. "You best hurry to it lest you lose even more sleep." Kili shot a glare at the blond only to find his eyes closed and an amused quirk in his lips. Kili threw off the covers in a huff and hurried across the floor. The woman's hair sprawled over the pillow, and she slept with her back facing them.

"Fee, what should I do?" Kili hissed over his shoulder. He received no response and silently cursed his brother. Neither of the brothers was known for picturesque sleeping habits, but that didn't mean he had the slightest clue what to do. Whenever his brother had snored, Kili had simply kicked him awake. He doubted such was an option with the trapper.

'I shall be the first to sleep tomorrow,' Kili decided silently as he prodded the woman's shoulder. She didn't stir and another grating inhale filled the room. He frowned, vexed and feeling no small amount of tired. 'She's lucky this isn't a nightly thing or Thorin would send her away simply for the thought of her noise.' He grabbed her shoulder with a full palm and tipped her onto her back. The second her back met the bed, her eyes snapped open. Before he could react, her hands had seized his arm at the shoulder and wrist and twisted the limb back, sending him face-first into the plush comforter.

"O-Oh. I-I'm sorry!" She let go immediately and sat up. Her eyes were wide and her teeth gnawing her lower lip. "Are you okay?" He shook his arm out.

"'Tis fine," he said. "Not the first time you've attempted to injure me." Her eyes seemed to swell with confusion before she found the tired curl tucked in the corner of his mouth.

"I don't recall a first time," she prompted.

"That's peculiar, because I most certainly recall you loosing an arrow towards my head," responded the brunette.

"If that counts as an attack, then consider it retribution for the moment in the woods I found myself in the line of your arrow." He nodded.

"Then on that account, we are settled." He raised his arm to recall her actions not five minutes ago. "This one remains." She raised her hand as if to offer her arm for an equal repayment, but his eyes hitched on her fingertips. Without realizing he'd done so, he took her fingers in his hands and held them close to his eyes, squinting through the darkness.

"What are these upon your fingers?" She smoothly tugged her hand from his grasp.

"Will you tell me something of your culture if I explain?" He hesitated, his mind looking back to his bed and sleeping brother. The night sky was watery with promises of a slowly marching dawn. But his curiosity was great. So he sat on the edge of her bed and waited.

"We have these bands to signify families." Indeed, the bracelets rested against her skin. "Connections, mostly. People we meet and feel we would help should they ever need it." She smiled. "Sometimes you meet people and know that you have found a kindred spirit." She held out her left hand to the feeble light, and Kili bent closer. Of her five finger tips, three held identical scars, starting from the tip of her finger to end right before the first knuckle. They weren't jagged like a battle scar or childhood accident. If anything, they were swift and precise. Every scar had a different design of black tattooing beside it.

"These are to signify the people I would die for," she whispered. "Our people aren't so different from other men, but this is one of the few cultural traditions we hold to." She grinned with unabashed pride. "When two people feel strongly enough, whether amongst a family, amongst lovers or friends, they will participate in a ritual of mxing bloods." Kili's face betrayed his impulsive disapproval of something that seemed so primitive. Surely there were more cultured ways of—she cut into his thoughts. "A greater part of the tradition is a secret for those who participate." He nodded in silent understanding of her excuse for secrecy. "But both people cut a single incision into their fingers." She dragged her nail lightly across his finger before pressing it to hers. "The idea is that that person's blood will flow in your veins." She released his hand. "After the incision has healed for a week, each person tattoos his or her initials into the person's finger, so never can a person forget nor lie about their blood."

"What if you change your mind?" Kili finally spoke. She gave a lop-sided grin and shrugged.

"That's why it is considered a most serious thing. There is no recourse to undo or bury what you've done." He shifted in his seat and let the information settle. It sounded painful and almost barbaric, but her explanation and clear love of its tradition, significance, gave him pause. He glanced at her hand and found it cradled gently by her right hand. Three of her fingers bore the scars and tattoos of the ritual.

"Are they all your family members?" He motioned to her fingers.

She shook her head. "Not entirely. Family is rather assumed since it is blood already. But I do have my younger brother," she tapped her thumb. "It starts with the thumb, this being the greatest, and so the first love brings us to the world." Kili instinctively looked across the room to his brother's shadowed form.

"Why is it upon the left hand? Is not the right hand stronger?"

"True, in most instances it is stronger. But we use our right hands for work and battle. The right hand is stained with blood—whether of men, orcs or animals." She raised her left hand and widened her fingers. "These are the people I would die for, the ones I carry with me always. I would not want their names covered with the blood of my kills."

"I suppose doing the ritual on a right hand is," he left the sentence open for her words.

"A most serious stroke of bad luck." She let her voice lift, "as is being born with your left hand dominant." He chuckled despite himself.

"I suppose that would be true." He yawned and felt her knee bumping his back.

"You should sleep."

"I have yet to give my fair return," he started.

"And yet there are many days ahead." She tilted her head and nodded in the direction of his bed. "I am simply happy to have had a conversation with you." He blinked, startled by her forthright statement, but she gave no notion of embarrassment or regret. "I know I apologized to the company earlier, but I would feel remiss if I did not say I am sorry for any distrust or fear I caused you. I can only imagine what it would feel to see someone disappear in the hour of need." Kili's lips pressed together, and his eyes clouded in thought.

"You let your thoughts flow quite loosely." He said it neither as a compliment nor reproach for he could not tell how he particularly felt about it. Only that it was different.

"When the honesty comes, best to let it," she answered blithely.

Kili stood from the edge of her bed, and the woman fell back to the embrace of her bed. "If such is the case, I regret to inform you, in the spirit of honesty, that your snores are quite formidable."

She chuckled and tossed to his retreating form, "Duly noted."


	13. Traps

A/N: Sorry. Updates will be a little more infrequent as I try to sort out internet access.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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><p>Dawn leaked into the sky and across Rivendell. The sun started as a low spark and grew, round and energetic, into the sky. When its first rays of light chimed inacross her eyes, Eda threw an arm across her face and turned her back to the stealthy intruder. But it was too late, and her mind started to click into place, thoughts tumbling through the cogs. Her stomach yawned loud and low. Ten minutes managed to pass before she begrudgingly sat up and wiped sleep from her eyes.<p>

The brothers slept more or less soundly at the other end of the room, and Eda crept from her bed with practiced quiet. Her thoughts happily meandered around the memories of the night before as she braided her hair. Her own braid meant little to her but for the fact it kept her hair from her face, yet she wanted to learn more about the intricacies of their own tradition. 'After all,' she rationalized as she tried the end of her hair with a band, 'I spent far too much time near dwarves to be completely ignorant.'

She picked up her vest, cloak and trousers from the chair beside her bed, taking only a second to observe the complimentary nightdress the elves had left on her bed the night before. The nightdress she had foregone in favour of her tunic and a spare pair of trousers. Hanging from the back of the chair, her quiver looked piteously bare with only two arrows remaining. Though she ought to have three, she sulked, if it weren't for the quail's fall from the sky breaking the arrow when it crashed to the ground. Still, two felt too valuable to gamble with when she didn't know what may find them outside the safety of Rivendell. Glancing at the two sleeping dwarves, she felt a warm bubbling in her chest. The night before had finally felt like she made the right step, said the right words, for once. She sheathed her knives and snuck out of the room.

Once in the hall, she threw cloak over her shoulders and tugged the hood low on her face. As of yet, the elves had yet to give her problems, and perhaps it was simply that they did not know who she was, but she didn't feel inclined to run risks regardless. It wouldn't only take one run-in with a past acquaintance for her secrets to spill. In such an instance, her best hope would be for a simple exile—even if it meant leaving Thorin's quest. Efficient, soft footsteps carried her out the hall and through the rooms to the outside air.

"My lady," a serene voice called behind her. "May I help you find something?" A tall female glided forward. "If you are awake and wishing for food—"

"No, I was," she ducked into the shadows of her hood, the brim of her cloak hanging in her vision and giving the woman merely a view of the elf from the stomach down. She could see willowy fingers delicately clasped but little else beyond the familiar lean frame of an elf and the wisp of fine cloth. Cloth she had stolen before. "I-I am going for a fresh stroll is all." She bowed from the waist. "But I appreciate your concern and warm hospitality, my lady." She could not seen the elf's face but a soft tinkle of laughter drifted to her ears. "Thank you." She hurried out and turned on her heel, practically galloping down the stairs. After a turn in the path, she ducked under a tree and held a hand to her chest, her fingers curling into her tunic.

"Breathe," she ordered. "Stop being such a frightened rabbit." Though she spoke the words, she heard her father's voice in her head, and it brought a smile to her face. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, trying to put her sunset memory to the bright scenery. A willow lazed in the sunlight, and she walked around its trunk. On the western side, right at the boundary of a peaceful garden, she saw her heel print from the night before, kicked into the ground to mark the spot. The pale rock jutted up like a wall into a clear blue ceiling. Checking for any visible elves, Eda crouched and sprinted through the garden.

Elven goods were highly prized in the world—very similarly to the jewels and fine armour of dwarves. While she hadn't bothered to steal or smuggle from the kin in the Blue Mountains—and she would never counter Thorin's wider generalization of dwarves in general—this did not mean other races were similarly treated. Of the dealings she involved herself in, few dealt with artifacts of extreme importance. Only once in her career had she handled a blade made by the West Elves of the first age—and that was several years ago. Unfortunately for the more reclusive of the elven kind, their perceived disdain for the world of men and dwarves often lead to such men and dwarves enlisting more subversive methods to obtain whatever cultural artifact or resource they wanted.

As for Rivendell specifically. Her boots scattered pale pebbles as she climbed onto a jagged path. She hurried along the ledge until it naturally widened and disappeared in the thickets of the mountain-side forest. They were not overly fond of strangers hunting in their lands, either. The ground was steep but she kept a decent pace and before long, it leveled into a minute valley between peaks. Birds trilled and chirped.

"All I have to do," she assured herself. "Is get through Rivendell without meeting someone who knows me for one reason or another." She nodded resolutely and pulled a length of twine from a pocket in her vest.

"Why would you need such a thing?" Her heart flew into her throat with a yelp while her hand snatched a knife from her hip. Several meters away, Kili stepped out from behind an oak.

"Oh, to all my ancestors dead and buried," she muttered over receeding nerves. "What are you doing here?"

"Fili said you were likely to get lost." He shrugged.

"You both slept when I left," she challenged, eyes narrowing in something between suspicion and confusion.

"Fili's a light sleeper. He said you were laughing to yourself." He took a step back. "I would much rather sleep if you have no need for me or protection." She grasped a piece of her lower lip between her teeth and chewed on her words. Protection, no, she did not need that. The woods hummed about them. Before she could sort her feelings towards having a companion, he said, "I didn't know where you had gone until I saw you running along the moutain."

"Your eyesight must be great," she let out without a thought. He grinned, obviously proud of himself.

"One of the reasons Thorin allowed us to join him in this quest." Even after she had commented on his eyesight, he couldn't help but speak of a plural—obviously himself and his brother. Eda took a second to look at her left thumb, her eyes grazing happily over the scar and her brother's black initials beside it.

"What are you doing out here?" Kili asked, his voice softer as he watched her staring at her thumb with a far-away smile.

"Hunting," she replied matter-of-factly. "I wanted to bring more catches for the company."

"If such, I must point out you forgot your bow." Kili pointed to her shoulder, and she laughed.

"I have so few arrows that I thought it best to lay traps and come collect after noon." She held up one hand of twine. "If you would care to help, I would never turn down such an offer."

"Even when it comes from me?" Kili raised an eyebrow. A part of his voice held humour; the other offered a semblance of skepticism. The woman had proven to be capable of both sincere effort and inept diplomacy. Neither erased the other—nor his continued wariness of her second career. But what she had shown him the night before eased his mind a little while simultaneously teasing his curiosity. Whether she felt similarly towards him after their tense interactions, he couldn't guess. And perhaps that was why he had followed her into the woods, and why he found himself asking such a question.

"Even when it comes from you." She turned and gestured for him to join her. "After all, I can simply give you the tedious tasks."

* * *

><p>"That's hardly sharp enough," Eda remarked with flat doubt. The dwarf stopped his duty, holding the branch in front of him and staring critically at its carved end.<p>

His dark eyes turned onto her, and she dropped her attention to the rope currently hugging tight to a bent branch. She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Would you care me to test it upon you?" He thrust the speared tip in her direction, and she ducked low, leaning to her side. It took less than a second for her decision to define, and she let go of the coarse rope. It seared through her palm, but all pain disappeared in her howls of laughter when the branch whipped through the air and smacked the dwarf soundly on his shoulder. He tumbled to the side and groaned into a faceful of dirt. Only when he didn't move did she quiet and creep near.

"Kili?" She nudged him first with the toe of her boot then her finger. He groaned. "Surely you've had worse," she sat back and fixed him with a disbelieving expression.

"Your bedside manner lacks much," Kili retorted, pushing hisself to an upright position, one hand massaging his shoulder.

"You're hardly of a state requiring a bedside manner," she muttered. Even though she knew he could handle himself in battle, she couldn't restrain the guilt at seeing him nursing his shoulder.

"That is a poor apology for wounding me," teased the dwarf. A growl gurgled in her throat but she tossed out the words nonetheless.

"I'm sorry." He teetered near laughter at the sour look on her face.

"You're quite adverse to those words," he commented, picking up the discarded stick and resuming the task of filing it to a fine point. She chuckled.

"Only when forced by doeful eyes of a theatrical dwarf."

A silence then a cheery wisecrack. "Doeful? As in large doe eyes?" Eda rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the breath of a laugh.

"Doleful," she emphasized. "Though I would not doubt you could manage doe-like eyes—not to say you should do so now!" Wide brown eyes stared at her before the dwarf cracked a smile. He held out the sharpened stick, which she took.

"What's your brother's name?" Kili sat back on the ground as she set to the trap. It was their third of the morning, and he was steadily appreciating how they worked. After she had set a snare with string and thin metal wires and found him baffled by the loops and knots, she decided to teach him a trap first. His question pulled her eyes for a second in his direction, but she returned to her task with a look of almost spiritual focus. He had noticed the expression every time she put her fingers to either bow or trap and suspected it was reserved for only those moments.

"Philip," she said. Kili tested the name aloud and caught a hint of a smile on her face. Even something as simple as the sound of her brother's name varnished her eyes in glee. Kili thought of his own brother. Fili brightened his life like the sun; if for no other reason, Kili knew he would appreciate the woman for the way she clearly loved her brother. Perhaps Gandalf had been right in arguing on her behalf, he mused.

"How old is he?"

"Three winters younger than myself." She finished the knots and stepped away from the trap. Her eyes shone with pride—though for her brother or her work, the dwarf didn't know. "He's always been studious and brilliant. Just last summer he was accepted as a scribe's apprentice. It's a later start than others, but he had to overcome our home's lack of books and learning for the chance." He stood up and walked quietly beside her as she continued gleefully. "I would give him a room of books if I could. Anything his heart yearned for; he'd only need to whisper it to the wind, and I'd fetch it to his doorstep." Her hands flew through the air, gesturing to the whole sky as if she could fold it into a bundle and carry it home.

"How many books have you sent him thus far?" Though he asked sociably, her eyes clouded.

"None." Her voice had mellowed. "I haven't the money to buy such luxuries. Books are of little use to the hungry and cold." Kili searched for words but like trying to grab fish from a pond, he came up empty. Her voice was soft and pensive, but she didn't look at him with any misery –in fact, she didn't look at him at all but stared up at the forest canopy. When she finally did, he felt surprised at the expression. Could a person look resigned and content but somehow determined?

"If I can manage this quest, I could give him books and stories to fill his every waking moment." She nodded resolutely then inhaled sharply. "Which reminds me." She pointed at him. "You still owe from last night."

"I believe that debt was settled on account of you hitting me with a tree branch," responded the dwarf smoothly.

"And I do believe physical debts and intellectual owes are separate." Her response flowed just as slick on his heels.

"There must certainly be a dwarf amongst your ancestors," Kili joked. "Fine. Though I am not sure what you would prefer me to share. We do not have blood rituals such as yours." She clasped her hands behind her back and strode ahead. Turning back to him, she playfully challenged, "Have you any skill at telling a story, Master Kili?"

"What kind of story?"

"Whichever means the most to you." Instantly stories of his home and family sprang forth, but he pushed them aside. She may have made great strides—whether knowingly or not—to overcome her past blunders, but that did not mean he felt entirely at ease. Seeing her love of her family helped the young prince in thinking she must have some sense of values; however, he had yet to see any semblance of beliefs as he knew them: honour, courage, loyalty. Could she not see past her home's hearth? He decided to put it to a test, and thought of one of his favourite dwarf sagas.

"I have one in mind, but it is quite long." They had reached the fringes of the forest, and Rivendell rested before them. "Could I tell the story tonight over another of Bombur's late-night feeds?" She agreed—though not without sending him a look from under a suspicious, lifted eyebrow—and they silently walked along the ledge and back into the shining peace of the city.


	14. Even

Hi everyone. I apologize for all the delays, but I hope this chapter makes up for some of it. :) Thank you for all your support, and I will try to keep to my scheduling.

Disclaimer: Only Eda is my own invention.

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><p>"Miss Eda, would you please come over?"<p>

The woman approached warily, her eyes flickering anxiously between the column of grey that was Gandalf and the dark boulder of Thorin. The dwarf's eyes were shadowed but the crease in his brow hummed of anger. 'I need to stop this pattern,' she swore. 'Neither of us will survive at this rate.'

For his part, Gandalf's eyes were softer, and so she focused on him.

"It was brought to our attention that the elves did not give you a separate room." Gandalf nodded to her cloak and hunched shoulders. "We cannot speak to the oversight, but we think it wise to bring the matter to Lord Elrond. Surely he has another room to spare. However," and at this, Gandalf glimpsed Thorin's expression. "We thought it best to ask you first if you thought such a move was necessary." She stared at Gandalf then Thorin, confusion clear on her face. "You see," Gandalf set to explain, "When Master Fili explained the sleeping arrangements you had come to, he said it was agreeable to all involved. And considering the current ill-tempers." Thorin tensed but said nothing despite the clear burn to do so. "And perhaps your own reasons for tip-toeing around Rivendell." It was her turn to fidget uncomfortably. "We thought perhaps best to not make unnecessary complaints."

"They are hardly unnecessary, Gandalf," Thorin could hold back no longer. "I will not have her sleeping near my nephews—human or not."

"For goodness sake, Thorin, she's been sleeping near all of you on the road. Why would it be suddenly so grevious now that the propriety of beds are involved?"

"It is not the beds but the doors," he responded warily. She could do nothing but blink in her stupor. Surely he didn't think any of them at risk of illicit relations? Her stomach roiled at the notion. No matter how she coud appreciate the looks of particular dwarves, the mantra of dwarf drowned even the slightest notion. Thorin must have caught her surprise for he said, "I do not fear anything would happen. I know and trust my nephews." She did not fail to notice a lack of trust in her. "It is a matter of principle and dignity, of which I will give no excuses for tongues to wag at either Fili or Kili."

"Thorin, why don't you rejoin your kin and work on readying for the next leg of our journey," Gandalf suggested pointedly. The dwarf shared a level stare with the leaning wizard, but left. Eda released a shaky breath she hadn't known she held.

"Now, Eda. All dwarvish pride aside, would you like to request Lord Elrond to find you another room?" She opened her mouth to speak when he said, "Think first." And so she closed her mouth and pulled back into her mind. Had they asked her this the day before, she wouldn't need to think, simply rush out a hearty "yes." But they hadn't asked her yesterday, they asked her now. Now, after her merry, occasionally awkward, meal under the moon. After she had a chance to glow over the bands on her arm and the scars on her fingertips and hear the loving, proud explanations of dwarf braids as they shared pieces of themselves.

She thought of the night after Kili had lumbered back to his bed. She had stayed awake, lying on her side, and staring through the darkness to the dip in the shadows where the brothers rested. It reminded her of her family, when they were early in their years and money stretched thin for a lack of working hands and too many mouths. Every night, she, her brother and her sister would nestle between their parents to sleep through the cold northern nights. When Philip reached his early, wobbly years, Eda had walked him in circles around the house, always one step behind should he fall and proudly laughing at his uneven steps. Every night, she started to press her thumb to his, imagining the time they would make the tradition scar their fingertips for forever.

"It is decided." Gandalf tugged her back from her memories.

"What?" She blinked away the film of memory. "I haven't said anything."

"You smiled in your thoughts, and it has been quite some time since you've managed such. If your time in Rivendell is aiding you in earning the trust of the company, then I think it best you stay near as possible." He winked at her. "For you will need them to like you when you make your next mistake." She stared at him dully.

"I thought my catches made up for that," she muttered.

"A dwarf is more than his stomach—even if it does not always seem so." A lop-sided grin came to her face.

"I am not sure you could convince Thorin," she chanced.

"For once, his stubborn hatred of elves might play to our favour. Leave it to me," Gandalf assured her before they parted.

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><p>That night she arrived earlier to the impromptu campfire, three rabbits and a mallard in her hands—which the dwarves set to deftly prepare.<p>

"How long are we set to stay in Rivendell?" She asked as she sat down beside Bifur—who was continuing his efforts to roast vegetables.

"We are set to leave tomorrow night," Balin said from his comfortable perch in an elegant wooden chair. She looked mildly disappointed. "Why?"

"I thought to preserve meat for once we continue on, but it takes three weeks." The dwarves as well looked disappointed. "I wouldn't risk carrying it with us." Bofur clapped a hand on her shoulder and smiled with all his optimism.

"At least ye thought of tryin'." She took the sausuge he offered and dropped it onto her plate after taking a mouthful. Kili and Fili pulled from the shadowed hall, each brother's shoulders hung low under the weight of their water buckets. Dwalin proudly dropped his cleaned rabbit into a pail and Dori meticulously-–if somewhat reluctantly—washed it with the cold water. Eda took charge of washing the rabbit from Bofur, and the underside of her fingers turned pink in the chilled water.

"Kili," she called to the dwarf. His back faced her from where he sat by the third rabbit, showing Fili his new talent at gutting the animal, but he turned at his name. "Would you be ready to regale us with your story once the feast is cooking?" His lips sloped in an easy smile, and he returned to the rabbit. Fili's eyebrows raised, and Eda could see his mouth wrapping around words, asking what exactly he had planned. The brunette's head lifted as if answering, but she saw nothing other than his long, unbraided hair in the firelight. Her own rabbit finished, she skewered it and placed it beside Dori's.

"Where is Thorin? Will he be joining us?" Bilbo asked. He sat across the fire, his legs loosely crossed while he sat on a cushion of cloaks.

"He and Gandalf are discussing our next step. They will join later if they can," explained Balin. It was not hard to notice the hopeful glances between the dwarves. The leader had been noticeably absent during their stay in Rivendell—though no one knew precisely why as he clearly avoided associating with the elves at every possibility. He would find them when he needed to impart information, but otherwise, they assumed, he stayed in his room or a private discussion with Gandalf—frequently including Balin and Dwalin. They knew he had a hard task ahead, deciphering the map, the runes, and charting their next move under the ligering memory of the orc pack. It did nothing to quell their wishes he would join, perhaps drink some ale with them, and give them time with the king they admired so ardently. More than the others, the princes showed their hope in their eyes. When Thorin had appeared to them at the noon meal, they had quickly started pestering him to join them. It resulted in little—in either words or actions—from their uncle, but the nephews remained firm in their faith he would show.

Kili handed his cleaned rabbit to Bombur, who started chopping it to pieces for the stew. Eda watched him survey the gathering with something between nerves and excitement.

"I will now regale you with the timeless dwarf saga of Nor and Onim," he announced. All attention immediately fell to him, and he tried to cover his nerves with enthusiastic confidence. Inside, his nerves burned like a forge; story-telling was a practiced and proud art in the dwarf culture. Just s their hammers and careful eyes would create the finest jewels and most fearsome armour, so they considered word-smithing an art. Kili had practice with his brother, but this would be his first tale in front of the company.

"Centuries ago, in the First Age of our world, great fires burned beneath the Grey Mountains," he spoke with a practiced rhythym, as if hearing someone whisper the words in his ear. "The Great Dwarf King of the Grey Mountains ruled over his land with absolute certainty and strength. He had been blessed with a beautiful wife of copper hair and three children: two sons, Fenin and Thonin, and a daughter, Onim." The dwarves settled back and let their eyes meander through the story.

"Onim had hair that shone like hot metal, and eyes bright as sapphires." Eda couldn't help but smile at the description; it sounded so very dwarf-like. "And no one, in all of the Grey Mountains nor Middle Earth, loved Onim such as Nor. In his dwarfling years, he had seen her in the halls of the mountain, and such her beauty shone that he was enraptured. But fates had not smiled upon Nor's life for he was an orphan and a simple black-smith—"

"Simple blacksmith?" One of the dwarves cut in. "There is nothing simple about smithing—"

"I know that," Kili shot the dwarf a cross look. "I only meant that he was not a prince." This appeared to satisfy the first dwarf, but another piped up.

"I thought he was a knight." Kili glared at his brother, clearly aware of his brother's playful gleam.

"Stop interrupting." Eda giggled to herself. Kili straightened and set his shoulders back almost to say he resettled himself back in the story. But his words struggled to come out in the wake of the disturbance. "He was a blacksmith—or a knight. Regardless of his particular job, he was not a prince. That is the point here—"

"Laddie, you're losing the tale," Balin guided gently. Despite the older dwarf's caring tone, the prince flustered.

"Patience, please!" The woman sent him a sympathetic smile, hoping to encourage him on, but he did not appear to notice it in his efforts to wordlessly silence his companions' good-natured cajoling. They became quiet. "Very good. Where was I—"

"Simple smithery," Fili helped playfully, earning himself a punch in the arm.

"Nor crafted beautiful swords and jewelry, all by the inspiration of his love for Onim, and his great skill earned him an audience with the King. It was at this meeting that Nor's greatest hope crashed about his ears, for the King wished to commission jewelry from him. At first, Nor felt lighter and stronger than mithril. He would slave through the end of Durin's folk, to the very ends of his extinction, to create a piece beautiful enough for his beloved."

"Alright, laddie, we understand. He loved the lass," Bofur teased, his words mingling with the smoke of his pipe. Dwalin leaned forward to grab a skewered rabbit.

Kili glowered. "Would you rather tell the story?" Eda's ears perked at a trace of fear in the words. No one else gave indication of hearing such, and several dwarves let out boisterous offers to take the story off the lad's hands. "It's my story!" Eda snatched the remaining rabbit and broke it to pieces. Perhaps filling their mouth with more food would keep them quiet. They eagerly chewed, and Kili continued.

"Then the King said the worst words for a lover to hear: 'They are for her to wear on her wedding day.' It was then that Nor discovered Onim's father currently discussed arranging a marriage between his daughter and a prince of the Red Mountains. Nor left his King's presence in the lowest of despair. Still, he had a duty and he faced his task with a new resolution: to give her the most magnificent piece that some part of him may rest near her heart. When it came time to deliver the jewelry to the King, Onim saw all his love for her in the inlaid jewels, and she fell in love with him as well."

'Is that it?" Eda kept the question silent.

"What none of the dwarves in the Grey Mountains yet knew was that the dwarves of the Red Mountains had lost much of their wealth to a dragon attack. They were suddenly without the money for a proper dowry or wedding. Yet they were greedy and saw opportunity in Onim's marriage, and thus sent a ragged band of thieves to kidnap the princess." The thief of the group faced the fire and lifted an eyebrow at the words. 'We're aways ragged in these stories.'

"One still night under a sky of thick clouds, the thieves crept into the halls and kidnapped the princess. By the time the alarm was raised and the swords drawn, it was too late. The King did not know who had taken his daughter nor where to search, and so his grief delved deep in his heart, a cavern of tears. When he heard of his beloved's disappearance, Nor yielded to none. His eyes were set upon retrieving Onim, and nothing else. He took his mount and started through the forests."

"You forgot the noble raven," interposed Ori.

"No, the raven comes in the forest," Gloin insisted.

"No, he comes before the forest and tells Nor of Onim's plead to find her," said Bombur over a spoonful of stew. Bifur nodded and said something in Khudzul, looking quite assured. Evidently the brothers all grew up hearing the same story.

"Onim's plead?" Fili leaned around his brother to look at Bifur.

"Yes," Bofur declares. "A raven heard the lass' crying, an' took pity on the beauty. She ask the raven to find Nor and guide him to her."

"Will you all cease and let me continue?" Kili cried out in exasperation. But it was too late as the dwarves' voices leapt into loud clamour of fiery Khudzul. Several of the dwarves shook fists, and a few rose to their feet or leaned close to the fire to better shout at the dwarf opposite them.

A loud roar snapped the fights into silence, and attention turned to Fili who stood to his full height and leveled a firm reproach at the members. Eda could suddenly and in full clarity picture a crown upon his head.

"That is better." His face softened and he looked down to his brother, who failed to hide his dejection. Fili knew his brother wouldn't continue the story with such a mood, but he felt at a loss for what to do.

"I'll continue from here, if that's okay with you," Balin stepped in with the wisest diplomacy. Kili's dark eyes flashed to the older dwarf and his wise smile and he hunched over his bowl of stew, a silent concession. Fili took his place at his brother's side and tried to ease the cloud with bright words.

"You wouldn't want to finish it, anyway, Kee. It gets boring at this part." Kili rolled his eyes but pushed out a laugh. The other dwarves joined in light jesting, Dwalin going on to say that it best Balin tell the story before his mind rotted out of old age. Eda felt a few humoured breaths as the air cleared. Perhaps she would have laughed more were it not for the nagging twinge in her chest that Kili's smile didn't shine quite right.

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><p>"How are you?"<p>

"What an odd question." He could feel her knee tapping his back, urging him to surrender. In his silence, it's force increased under her frustration then receeded silently; she had given in and left him to his secrets.

"How did you think of the story?"

"What an odd question," she said airily. He chuckled in the darkness.

Through the large, arched windows of their room, the pair could see the stars sprinkled in the sky. Neither put their eyes to the sky, however. The dwarf had his back to the window, sitting at the foot of her bed with his eyes moving between his brother's sleeping shape and Eda's sitting figure. Sharp shadows cut across her face making her expressions most dramatic. He wasn't aware if she knew this but didn't bother to share either.

"I told everyone earlier how I felt," she spoke quietly.

"Yes. 'It was very interesting.' 'Intense.' 'Beautiful and noble,'" He quoted pieces back at her.

"Well, all are true. It was a wonderful story," Eda insisted, turning her attention to the world outside the window.

"Even the part where Balin described Nor's defeat of the dastardly thieves?" prodded the dwarf.

"Yes."

"And when Onim flew into Nor's arms to be saved from the orcs?" He pushed a little more.

"Yes." Her voice slipped, and he laughed—hushing only when she pointed to his brother.

"For such an immoral character, you are a terrible liar."

"I most certainly lack your skill," she swiftly replied. Her head had tilted and both eyes caught light from the window. It wasn't an accusatory stare, but it unnerved him all the same—if possibly more. He scrambled for words, but she found them more quickly. "And if you'd rather my honesty, then, no, I did not particularly like the story." A pause rang in the air. "I'm sorry."

"What issues had you with it?" Kili rotated on the bed to face her. She had started to crack her fingers with her thumbs, and, despite any pops of success, she continued to do so. Her eyes looked anywhere but his face, and her teeth gnawed her bottom lip.

At last it burst through. "It's so terribly unbelievable!"

Kili blinked. "That's all?"

He knew her eyes widened from the way her eyebrows stretched up. "That's all?" She repeated incredulously. "What does that mean?"

"Certainly the orc attack was embellished for even one dwarf would be hard-pressed to defend himself against a small army of enemies whilst protecting his maiden—"

"Without injury—"

"And some might say it unrealistic for a King to give his blessing on the love—"

"Until he is recognized by a visiting King and discovered to be a lost prince—"

"But the reality isn't the point of the story," Kili finished pointedly. No moment spared to give her a response. "It's about duty and honour and love. Nor's courage in battle saved him and Onim, and his loyalty to her and his King won him the love of Onim and the blessing of the King. Because of his strength of character and body, they reached their happy ending."

"A happy ending is simply a story that hasn't finished," Eda dared in a voice barely higher than a sigh.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Somehow he knew his voice had raised, that it sharpened, but he didn't care. She sighed.

"Nothing," she tugged on her blanket as if preparing to tuck in. Kili didn't move, his eyes fixated on her with a dangerous concentration. "It's a lovely sto—"

"Don't lie your way out of this," he commanded in an undertone. His hand snatched a fist of the blanket and yanked. The result was a ripple through the fabric jerking her back to sitting upright. "Do you think such values are useless or are you so dark as to think no one truly has such?" The words tasted of insulted pride and disdain. These stories had raised Kili, second only to his mother and Thorin, and somehow her composed rejection whipped his pride and rallied his anger. "You said you would die for your brother." Her eyes shot to his with warning—a warning he swept aside. "How is that any different than Nor's love for his King, kin and beloved?"

"Because my love is real!" She snapped but quickly covered her mouth. He knew her next words would be an apology but found he didn't want to hear it. It surprised him when she took a long inhale and said, calmly, "I love my brother for who he is, and yes, I would die for him if it came to battling an orc army for his protection. But there's the difference, isn't there? I would die." Even though he caught the glimpse of her fingers fidgeting, hastily curling and unfurling around handfuls of her blanket, her voice wavered only little. "B-because loving someone doesn't keep you from death. And loving someone doesn't magically change circumstances. I could love a prince more than I love the air I breathe, but I could never marry one—"

"But Nor was actually a prince—"

He couldn't decide if he imagined the sardonic slant on her mouth for shadows washed in. "And how greatly convenient for him," jibed the woman. The air whispered in the trees like a hushed lullaby but neither felt tired. To the prince, her words frustrated. How could someone bear willing scars of devotion yet scoff at stories—his stories? Had she yet to realize that Thorin's company willingly marched towards the Lonely Mountain, towards a bleak outcome and a firey unknown, because of their values? Loyalty, bravery, determination and strength. All of these they learned from their father's knee—or, in his case, uncle's—as the great sagas were recounted. Perhaps they could squabble over details—how beautiful was the dwarrow's beard and exactly how many enemies did the hero slay—but the heart of the story always remained the same.

"You may call me idealistic, but I say you're simply scared." He hadn't meant to say "scared." The word "dark" had tumbled in his mind, but somehow it never made it out his mouth. Silence responded and he read something of an uncomfortable surprise in the creases of her face. 'No, dark doesn't suit,' he thought. 'For she is not evil.'

"Well, I suppose I have to be." The subtle tremble in her voice spoke to greater nerves. He had unnerved her. She shoved out a laugh. "If your stories are true, I'm a ragged thief due for a come-uppance at the hands of a noble dwarf." He couldn't help but laugh softly.

"A thief, yes, but not ragged. Yet." She rolled her eyes and knocked him on the back with her knee. It felt oddly comforting, as if a silent offer of truce. It took less than a second for him to accept with a grin.

"That counts as another physical debt to be repaid," he pointed at the offending knee hidden under the blanket. She rolled her eyes.

"Ever a dwarf." Knees drew to her chest and her chin rested atop them, eyes turned to the shadows playing across the blanket's broad grey expanse. Abruptly, he found himself wishing to ask for a story from her childhood. Her fingers stood out like thin tree branches over the pale fabric, and he caught the anxious quiver when she started to crack her knuckles. 'Perhaps another night.' The conversation had whisped away and left them with unsettling contemplations. Yet neither stepped forward to share, both knowing that it was still too early to bare. His distrust was not completely gone despite his curiosity's overwhelming propulsion to the woman. And if her twitches gave any hint of the internal, Eda had yet to come to terms with him as well.

Kili made the first move and stood. They parted without an utterance and tried to find sleep under the fresh layer of heavy thoughts.


	15. Little Comforts

Disclaimer: You know what a disclaimer is for.

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><p>"Master Fili?" The dwarf grunted and pried open one eye. It shone with light more than just the sun, and Eda realized Kili was accurate in saying he woke early and easily. "I do not require any guard or company. You may leave your brother to sleep." Without a word, the blond shifted and the blankets rustled. The sound of Kili's disgruntled yelp muffled in the fabric of his pillow.<p>

"Wha?" He mumbled sourly.

"What did you do that Miss Eda would refuse your company today?" Fili spoke much more alertly, both eyes open and sparkling with mirth.

"Nothin'. I was a perfect gentleman." She saw Kili's hand search the distance for Fili, find his shoulder and shove roughly.

"Did you drop her in a river?" Fili continued unperturbed.

"No," he grumbled.

"Leave her in a bear cave?"

"No."

"Shoot an arrow at her?"

"She's alive, isn't she?" Eda bit her lip to keep the laugh caged. The younger brother's mind finally seemed to stir with the familiar spark of his humour. "If you are so concerned for her well-being, you can accompany her."

"I'm older—"

"I'm more handsome."

"Impossible." Fili's attention rested solely on Kili in such a way Eda felt she could have slipped away without notice if she tried. But the exchange proved too entertaining to leave just yet, and she watched silently. "Have you seen my beard?"

"Yes," Kili shot back. Though his eyes were still fastened shut and his face buried into the pillow, she could hear the mischeif on his face. "But I've also seen you naked, dear brother."

Perhaps the blond wouldn't normally have turned red at the tease, but Eda's laughter reminded them both of her presence, and Fili flushed. Kili's head jerked up, his eyes abruptly alert and landing in shock on the woman.

"Kili, there is a virtuous maiden present!"

"She's not overly virtuous. She is a thief after all." Eda rolled her eyes. 'He will never see past that,' she kept the thought to herself. The light tone of his words put her more at ease, however, as the brothers bantered back and forth about the merits of Kili to judge virtue. At this point, Eda decided to leave them to it and grabbed her cloak on the way out. From the sounds of their conversation as she closed the door, it would take them all morning to realize she'd even left.

This morning, she wandered the halls with less urgency and direction, her feet simply ambling the familiar path. The morning air was fresh with a warmth that only came from living near water, and she took greedy inhales.

"And what might you be doing out so early?" She turned to see Gandalf sitting at a wooden table upon a balcony. The sun warmed the grey of his cloak and turned the rings of pipe smoke a hazey gold. She smiled and moved to join him.

"Leaving two dwarf brothers to themselves," she answered.

"Are you finding yourself making better connections?" Gandalf asked carefully. She nodded, silent and pensive with her eyes trailing over the fine grains and intricate carvings of the table. She remembered Gandalf's comment of her 'next mistake' with a touch of humour and raised her eyes to his. He looked back at her with a knowledge like he already knew the question in her mind. "I simply told Thorin that if he wished to inconvenience our hosts unnecessarily, he could discuss it with Lord Elrond personally." The wizard inhaled from his pipe, paused, and blew out a ring of smoke into the air. "For once, his pride and stubbornness worked in our favor." She couldn't help but laugh beneath her breath.

They lapsed into an easy silence, and the sun crawled higher into the sky. Eda knew she should be checking traps and setting new ones, hunting food for the dwarves, yet she couldn't find it in her to leave the moment. Over the past few days, her nerves had eased, reassured by each passing hour that the elves had no knowledge of who she was or any past dealings she may have had with members of their kin. In the wake of the slow relaxation, she began to enjoy the realm more, it's calm and elegence. It seemed wholely unlike the world she knew of, the world they had just come from of orc attacks, cold rain and mountain trolls. And irreparably unlike the world they would soon venture into when they left to continue towards Erebor.

"Gandalf." The wizard gave a short murmur to show he was listening. "We have but less than a day here, do we not?" He nodded, and she tried to keep the disappointment from her sigh. Not that she could live in Rivendell, she knew that, but it didn't keep the mind from turning in wishes.

"I recommend you cease your trapping for today," said Gandalf. "The elves are not unaware, though they may not say anything yet. Let the dwarves eat from the numerous supplies they brought if they are still hungry."

"I thought we could save those supplies for a time when we have no alternatives," suggested the woman. She sat forward in her chair, hands on the table and fingers fidgeting.

"A reasonable idea, but supplies could also be replenished. And people are much more willing to help when they do not feel insulted or taken for granted." She leaned back in her chair as if he had dropped a large parcel in her lap.

"I suppose you're to say this is another mistake of mine," she tried to jest and cover the embarrassment. Gandalf had a touch of a smile and drew from his pipe.

One silent exhale later, he replied, "I would not say it is a mistake regarding Thorin and his kin. I am sure if they had any idea of how you were vexing the elves, they would be most inclined to throw you a celebration." She smiled despite herself.

"As tempting as that is, I would rather not risk exhausting the elves' hospitality. Valar knows only what they would do if I went too far."

"That sounds like the most wise choice." Eda stood and offered a quiet thanks to Gandalf before retracing her steps back to her room.

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><p>Word finally came whispering through the ranks to prepare to leave. It came swiftly and just before the absulte fall of night time. Eda had sat through a dinner of mostly Khudzul but hadn't considered it anything unusual—the dwarves seemed most eager to keep conversations private in the presence of elves. Most of the time, she tried to imagine what they could be saying to each other. Complaints about food were voiced in common tongue for the benefits of the elves, but she often pretended they continued their litany in secret as well. True to her word and Gandalf's suggestion, Eda had stayed in her room that day and foregone hunting. She almost laughed at thesurprise upon the dwarves' faces when the elves placed plates of small game and less greenery upon the table; Gandalf was right again.<p>

That night's meal had gone much the same way as the previous two nights, a few fiery disagreements—or perhaps wagers—and small conversations around the table. Only when they had returned to their rooms did Eda realize something important had passed. Kili and FIli immediately set to packing their things, and Eda stood dumb for a moment.

"Wait. Are we leaving now?" Her brain at last caught the words to piece together the obvious. The brothers looked over at her, both wearing expressions of disbelief.

"Of course," Kili spoke first. "Weren't you listening at dinner?" Eda felt her expression fall flat.

"You mean listening to the Khudzul that I don't speak?" She shot back sarcastically. Their mouths formed the shapes of 'oh.'

"I forgot that part," said Fili, returning to collecting his things. Kili shrugged. "Yes, they decided we should leave just before dawn."

"But to prepare now and hide the packs to avoid the elves discovering the plan," Kili continued his brother's sentence.

"Thorin is certain they will try to stop us," finished Fili. From the sound of the older prince's voice, he heartily agreed with his uncle's suspicion. Eda said nothing and started to collect her things. A second later, the brothers turned around at the sound of her surprised chirp.

"What is it?" Fili asked between shoving his spare clothes into his pack. Eda held her quiver out with a wide grin.

"I have new arrows." Newly fletched arrows nested in the quiver, nearly filling it to capacity. "Perhaps the elves," she murmured to herself as she eagerly pulled one out for inspection. But they weren't Elvish, and she recognized the feathers on the end as quail and duck—the animals they had eaten before.

"You were running out." Kili's voice reached them. He had his back to them, busy organizing his things and reapplying his weapons. Eda grinned.

"Well, thank you." She placed the arrow back in its new home. "They're wonderful." Fili smiled and clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"I didn't know you could be so kind, brother," Fili teased. Kili shrugged off his brother's hand and turned towards the dwarf.

His own grin on his face, he said, "Only because you are not so lazy as to need my help."

Eda rolled her eyes. "You certainly know how to ruin someone's appreciation. I was going to make my own."

"Oh, yes?" Kili raised his eyebrows. "And when would that have occured?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and cocked one eyebrow in a mocking challenge. "After I ran out from shooting my last at your head." Fili stepped between them with raised hands and a humoured expression. Kili had returned to his pack as if to dismiss her comment as altogether ridiculous.

"Before you kill my brother—"

"Who said she would hit me?"

"—might I point out we have yet to finish preparing? The more you squabble, the less time we have to rest before setting out." The three immediately set to their things, Eda silently while the two brothers kept a running conversation betwixt themselves. The last of her items accounted for and stowed, she checked over her daggers and dipped cursory fingers into each of her pockets, tallying every end and odd tucked away.

In the stillness following, she realized the unfamiliar silence. Over the course of their efforts, the sun had dipped low, teasing the room with fading warmth before it left them to a pool of deep, stary sky. How long had it been since she'd heard their voices? She turned and saw the two forms nestled in the bed, chests rising and falling to the gentle rumble of snoring. Vaguely, she wondered who would wake them if not the sun. She stayed dressed but clambered into the folds of her bed. The distant spray of the waterfalls reached her like a whisper, and she rested her chin on her knees.

In only a few hours, she would be back into the world. Her eyes landed on the arrows nested at the foot of her bed. She would be back to the sudden life of living on both ends of the arrow; somehow she had known it _could_ be dangerous but had never considered it _would_. A quest, after all, was likely to have some kind of adventure. But the idea of something actively hunting them sent chills down her chest like cold water. She was used to being the one hiding in the bushes and pulling back the arrow. Yet suddenly she was the rabbit, ears alert and always anxious, yet still unaware.

Her sigh came out ragged, and her fingers clenched into the blanket. This was a different kind of fear. Across the room, she heard the rustle of a blanket and quiet footsteps.

"Can't sleep, either?" The brunette sat at the end of her bed, his eyes grazing the room. She gave nothing but a faded grunt.

"When I was little and couldn't sleep, Fee would tell me stories." Kili's eyes warmed. Silence settled in as the dwarf gazed into the shadows, eyes honing upon his sleeping brother with practice clarity. Eda didn't dare break the stillness and let her own eyes drift to the shadows meandering through her covers. In all the sharp distinctions of moonlight and contoured fabric, she imagined the steep shadows rose like mountains.

"Would you like a story?" She blinked and stumbled to collect herself in his attention. He had never offered her a story before—not unless it was in repayment for one of hers. Her lips turned into an easy smile.

"Are you sure you want to share one?" She teased quietly.

"Would you criticize it?" Kili responded just as lightly, eyebrows raised.

"Would this story be unrealistic and filled with impossible feats of strength or luck?" Eda countered. Her lips itched with a growing laugh. He smirked.

"And if it was?"

"Are you making a game of refusing to give answers, Master Kili?" Eda switched tactics and nearly laughed for the amusement that flickered across his eyes.

"Why would you think such a thing?" He mocked the roll of her eyes with one of his own, and she prodded him with her foot. A hint of a laugh escaped him. "If you would be so opposed to one of my 'impossible' stories, then perhaps you can share one of yours." He gestured an open hand as if giving her the floor and his permission. Though he spoke lightly, Eda felt a pang of nerves. Their past experiences in sharing stories hadn't ended in the most amiable of terms—though it certainly could have gone worse—but she worried of some hidden resentment in his words. Yet his face showed no anger or disdain, and rather his curious attention sent her mind hurriedly scouring the recesses of memory for a story.

At last, one came bobbing to the surface, sending an excited shine to her eyes. Kili leaned a hair's width forward as if snared by her visible eagerness.

"No interruptions unti—"

"Who said I would interrupt?"

"—and there you just did." Her hazel eyes bore into him with a pointed meaning to match her flat tone. He held his hands up in surrender, and she filled the silence with a low exhale.

"My mother used to tell this story to us when we were little. There was a young woman in the north named Mehandil—"

"You forgot to start with 'long ago'—"

"Kili, all bless it! Shut up!" He grinned wide despite her bemused exasperation and attempt to hit him with her pillow. "Mehandil was the daughter of a once great King, Ukka, and sister to Ukka's two sons, Eto and Freyr. After King Ukka's death, the two brothers agreed they would rule the land together, sharing the Kingship in seasons of power. But Eto's heart was greedy, and with every passing year, he wanted less and less to share with his brother. One year, Eto refused to share and banished Freyr."

"However, Freyr refused to give up without a battle and he raised an army against his brother. The armies fought, and both brothers died on the battle field." She paused to watch Kili carefully. His mouth had opened as if ready to sprout words, but her attention held him back. His eyebrows had creased and lips turned down in obvious displeasure at the course of the story, especially so quickly. 'Surely, the idea of brothers killing one another is less than his favourite,' she reasoned.

Still, she continued, "The brothers' elder cousin was next to the throne and declared that Freyr's body be left to the wilderness for the animals to scavenge. Such was a fitting burial for a traitor, and the kingdom agreed. The new King declared it treasonous to bury Freyr or to even mourn his passing, and yet Mehandil could not help but agonize over her brothers. To lose one was a devastation, but to lose both only to watch one torn apart without a proper burial…Mehandil knew she could not bear it, and thus one night she snuck to the battlefield and buried Freyr."

"The next morning, the new King saw what had happened and demanded to know who had disobeyed his law. Mehandil stepped forward. 'You dare defy your kin to bury and mourn a traitor?' the King roared." Kili gave a lop-sided smile as Eda attempted an enraged, booming voice while trying to stay quiet enough to not stir Fili. The dwarf thought it sounded a little like Dwalin. "Mehandil said only that she did, for his law was wrong, and she defied no kin, for family would never forbid the proper burial of another. In his rage, the King ordered her to be executed for her treason." Kili's eyes widened, and Eda felt a surge of giddy satisfaction.

"'No!'" He grinned again at her attempts of a voice. "The elder cousin's brother, Rhedon, ran forth and threw himself at his brother's feet. 'Please, spare her,' he pleaded like a man begging for his own life. For Rhedon was engaged and in love with Mehandil. Watching her walk under the guide of the guards ripped the very heart from Rhedon's seams and he pleaded for his brother's compassion. Rhedon knew Mehandil would never ask for a pardon nor would she ever apologize for what she had done even when it would mean her own death." Eda paused and let her eyes travel the creases of Kili's face. He was still leaning in the most slightest of ways towards her, his eyes fixed on her yet also not—as if watching her tell the story and yet seeing past her. The tension in his brow was as apparent as the tremors in his eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed only the slightest, before she made a snap decision.

"'Dear brother,'" her voice had dropped to a softer, low whisper. "said Rhedon. "'Do not cut the heart from me.' And in a spare moment, the King met his brother's eyes and felt all the love they had betwixt them. 'Halt!' The King ordered his guards. The sword aimed for Mehandil's heart stopped just a breath away from her skin, when the King ordered her released. Rhedon ran to his beloved, who wrapped him happily in her arms. And so the love between two brothers repaired the past tears." She ended with a rather awkward nod, as if uncertain how else to signify the end. Kili raised a solitary eyebrow at her, prompting her to give a defensive, "What?"

"Is that truly how the story ends?" She fidgeted under the covers and her eyes darted out the window.

"No." Rather than something of a reprimand, Eda heard him give a restrained chuckle. A grin forced its way onto her face. "Mehandil dies, and Rhedon kills himself." 'There's the exasperation,' Eda thought with a silent laugh. The dwarf seemed utterly flummoxed.

"That would be a terrible ending," declared the prince. A spark of mischief lit in her eyes.

"Why would that be?"

"Because Mehandil shouldn't die for doing the right thing. She stood for her values and her family," Kili strained to keep his voice quiet despite the passionate certainty in every syllable. Eda smirked. "Why are you smiling like that?" He sounded abruptly wary.

"Well, how curious you would defend her when she broke the law," Eda answered smoothly. The dwarf's expression dropped and his eyes widened. "She openly defied her King and law, did she not?" Kili's mouth opened to respond but words were slow in coming. She playfully nudged him with her foot.

Like it threw the words into his mouth, he rushed, "But she did so because the law was unjust, and she did what was right. Are you saying she was wrong?" Eda shook her head loosely at his challenge.

"No, I think she was right in what she did," agreed the woman.

"Then why would your story have her die?" pressed the dwarf, his eyes fixed on her. Her fingers curled around the blanket folds at her feet.

"Because being right doesn't mean you live." He knew she was offering a sympathetic smile, but he didn't feel comforted. Nor did he feel particularly enraged. Or depressed. He didn't feel any of the reactions he would have expected. But he did feel fear. Where had that come from? Something like a skulking compression from his stomach upward, contracting around his ribs while every bone hummed this paranoia.

"Your stories are not very uplifting," he tried to joke in hopes a laugh or smile could shake the feelings. Her smile deepened but only seemed to grow more apologetic. He preferred her with her eyes lit in mischief or pensive focus—even the nostalgia of home. "I suppose that is why you lied the ending." Fingernails picked at the blanket fabric while her eyes stared through the bed and off. When she returned to him, she offered a gentler smile. Before she could say anything, his words tumbled out, "I like your new ending better." The smile broke to a genuine grin he felt himself returning.

"Me, too."

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><p>Story is adapted from Antigone. Couldn't find a Nordic equivalent for what I was looking for. Sorry for the delay, but thank you for everyone who reads and supports. :) May the fourth be with you.<p> 


	16. Things Best Left Unsaid

Welcome, welcome. Have fun. Have a moldy cheese and ale.

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><p>Her eyes lay on the arrows nesting beside her pillow. From where she lay on her side, the night washed the world is nebulous hues of grey. The feathers rested just beside her pillow, almost close enough that her attention left her feeling a bit cross-eyed.<p>

"What's your favorite food?" Her eyes dropped to the end of her bed where Kili sat quietly, his face hidden in shadow as his back faced the window. At some point after her story, she had landed on her side. Neither took it to mean a call for sleep, though, and she suspected the young dwarf understood her rumbling fears more than he would ever admit. Her own thoughts had wrapped, tumbled and twisted in the silence. For that's what it was, wasn't it? Fear. She was scared of what awaited them with the next dawn. And for once, she had changed a story for a happier ending, painting a rosy picture of healed hearts and reunited loves.

'I must be getting sentimental,' she had tried telling herself. Sentimental, however, didn't match the buzzing anxiety in her gut. No, she had seen the expression on Kili's face, the tension and hope, and even if it was simply a story, she wanted to ease his worries. To see him smile with that foolhardy optimism made her feel better, as if things would turn out perfectly simply because the world couldn't stand to upset his faith.

The feathers lingered in sharp focus before her eyes, and she couldn't help but smile. While she could make her own arrows—what self-respecting hunter couldn't?—she had indeed been lazy in putting off the activity. And perhaps, in the deep recesses of her thoughts, a bit scared to acknowledge why she would likely need more in her very near future.

Kili shifted, and Eda's eyes returned to him. Their conversations seemed to have many pauses and silences, and so she had thought to leave him to the question until he decided to answer.

"That's an odd question." She didn't say anything, but felt her lips turn up at his nimble tone. "My mother makes a fantastic roast. I don't know anything of how she does it—not even the spices she uses—but its smell can fill all the halls of Ered Luin, and you would think you were drowning in luxury."

"And she doesn't teach you how to make it?" Eda asked. His head turned and the night tossed shadows across his face.

"Well, maybe she would have were it not for an unfortunate series of events when Fee and I were younger," he admitted lightly. Eda chuckled. "Suffice to say, mother does not trust either of us to cook anymore." The warmth in his eyes spoke of a cherished, secret memory, and Eda hid her smile. "And yourself?"

She pushed off the bed and sat up, maneuvering amongst the covers to face him. Her eyes dipped to the side as her mind sifted through all the things she missed from home. "My sister makes fantastic pickled beets." Kili's face broke into an instant grimace, and Eda laughed. "You've never had it. There's no need for such a face." She rolled her eyes. "We pickle most of our vegetables because the winters are long. Fresh vegetables don't last very long, and it's harder to get them once temperatures drop." Kili nodded, still unwilling to believe such a dish could be worthy of nostalgia, but the woman didn't seem perturbed by his disbelief.

"Did your sister teach you to make your own?" Kili switched the focus.

"Yes," Eda murmured, her eyes turning to the covers in a way Kili had come to realize meant she was far away and at the same time the most clearly in front of him; she was thinking back to her family, and he could see the love in her eyes. Her eyes lifted to his, and she smiled broadly. "Though it is not my best dish."

"And what would be your best dish?" Kili raised an eyebrow, and Eda did not fail to miss the teasing doubt in his gaze. She nudged him with her foot in a silent retort.

"We call it ground fish," she explained. The dwarf's expression flipped to perturbance as his eyebrows knit and his eyes told her he thought her crazy. She chuckled. "You seal fish in a clay pot with honey and other herbs. You dig into the ground just before the colder months and bury the pot there. After a month or more, you take it out, and it is the most rich, unique taste." The dwarf prince didn't feel entirely convinced, but the idea piqued his curiosity.

"After we reclaim Erebor, I shall visit and you can make some of your ground fish," the prince commented off-handedly. Eda felt her eyes widen and her heart seize with something tasting very much of joy. This was the first anyone had spoken to her of 'after Erebor.' In their travels, the dwarves had of course spun tales of what they would do once their quest came to an exciting, fruitful end. Most of the tales were homespun fantasies which they enjoyed teasing each other about; who would spend all his wealth in the alehouse, and who would dig the greatest tunnels, the greatest, new treasures of the Lonely Mountain. The older dwarves had been eager to joke about the use of riches to start a family, sending pointed looks at the three youngest of the company. Eda remembered hiding her laugh when Fili responded smoothly that his golden hair already gave him enough trouble fending off dwarf-maids, and he would rather donate his gold to Bofur's efforts to woo Gloin's wife. Of course, most of this occurred during her silent exile, and even when she had been begrudgingly allowed into the realm of existing, none spoke to her of the future. She resisted the urge to leap across the bed and hug the young dwarf. Given the questioning look he was shooting at her, it seemed such would be a doubly bad idea, and she restrained herself to smiling.

"What?" Kili asked.

"You would visit me after Erebor?" asked the womanly quietly. The dwarf took a moment, his attention turning away from her to his thoughts. It did sound odd, he had to agree. Just days ago, he had cursed the woman, thought her lower than the dirt she hunted on. And yet he knew the sincerity in the idea because his chest hummed excitedly at the idea; he did want to see her after Erebor. Knowing this and articulating it without sounding overly sentimental, however, that was a different beast, and the dwarf wrestled with it.

"If you visit, you must try my sister's beets," Eda broke in, pulling him from the thoughts. He found her giving him something of a challenging grin and smirked.

"Only one." She nodded, satisfied and a bit too mischevious to let the dwarf feel like he had heard the end of that debate. "What is your sister's name?"

"Ceyda."

"Why doesn't your brother have a name like yours and your sister's?" The question slipped. Eda shrugged her shoulders, and raised unphased eyebrows at the dwarf.

"You can ask my mother and father when you meet them." Kili nodded, grin breaking on his face and thought it sounded like quite a pleasant idea.

Their conversations ambled similarly through the night. Occasionally, they would break away into their own silences, but eventually reunite under some curiosity about the other or a sudden thought one needed to share. When the night sky started to pale with coming dusk, Eda had suggested the dwarf prince take some sleep in the remaining few hours. He had refused in an absent tone that left the trapper wondering if his nerves danced painfully the same as her own. The closer the dawn crept, the closer she felt pushed to the edge of a cliff. Time marched on at her back, and nothing in her power could give it a battle. So her feet slipped closer to the edge, and her nerves wratcheted up every time she inched just a little closer to whatever rested below that drop.

"I'm scared, too," she had muttered without a thought. Too late, she recognized the unyielding silence, and Kili had disappeared in the seconds it had taken her to scramble together an apology. She cursed herself beneath her breath, and her fingers returned to anxiously twisting the fabric in spirals. She sat there with her knees pulled close, and her fingers nervously clawing the comforter while the sun started to breath into the sky.

As the crest of sunrise broke into the horizon, Eda heaved from her bed and crept towards the brothers' bed. Fili's eyes opened slowly but clearly when she nudged him and whispered his name.

"Ready?"

"Ready," he answered quietly, turning to his brother and shaking his shoulder.

"I'm awake," grumbled the brunette into his pillow. His voice came through clear despite the pillow's current place covering half his mouth, and Fili correctly surmised he had been lying awake for quite some time. Eda left their side to quietly gather her things. The sky was swelling with a pink hue, and Fili pushed himself out of the bed.

"Come on, Kee," he whispered, shaking his brother a tad more urgently. He pulled his boots over, shoved his feet in and started lacing them up while his brother slumped out of bed like the four year old Fili thought he might still be.

With his boots fastened, Fili stood up and surveyed his brother.

The older prince was not oblivious to what had kept his brother up through the night—or not as much as the others likely supposed. He had awoken early to a burst of laughter at first, and throughout the night he would pop into consciousness to check on his brother. He missed most of their topics, their voices considerably lower as they accustomed to the need, but he knew enough that every time he woke, his brother was not beside him. Until the time he woke to Kili trying his best to slip discreetly across the bed and under the covers. Fili had decided best to keep the silence, and continued his breathing as if he'd never awoken, only falling asleep again when he heard his brother's quiet exhales. At the time, he had thought Kili had fallen asleep as well. It seemed they both had grown a skill of feigning.

In his thoughts, his eyes had drifted to Eda on the other side of the room. When he had first sent Kili after her, it was his way of easing his own conscience and challenging his brother. She had tried hard that first night, bringing them game in the hope of a peace offering. Dwarves always appreciated apologies, going far enough to feel entitled to them at times, but Fili felt they should give a little in return. Dwarves could not hold to grudges forever if they were to reclaim their home and wealth. Unless it was the elves, of course.

Perhaps it was something of compassion for the woman's efforts—or perhaps some pity, if those two were different in a way Fili didn't feel like investigating. Either way, he had never thought sending his brother to rebuild burned bridges would end with late night conversations. He couldn't help but feel a distrusting worry for his brother; what if she did betray them? He knew it unfair to bring back misspoken words, but apologies didn't erase memories, and he couldn't help but worry how his brother could be hurt if their new friend failed again.

'Second chances, allies,' Fili reminded himself sternly, thinking of Balin's calm certainty when he had said the words back in Ered Luin. 'We are not alone in this world.'

As his thoughts spun through, Fili barely caught the movement of his brother inaudibly walking across the room to Eda's side.

"I hardly gave you new arrows that you could eat them." Kili's voice shot, and the woman jumped. Her arm twitched with a nerve to strike, and Fili caught the glimpse of an arrow in her hand.

"I must be old if a dwarf is somehow light-footed enough to surprise me," she spoke to no one in particular. At first, Kili was unamused, but his face broke into a smirk.

"You are quite old. You must be how old, thirty years?" Even from his distance, Fili could see her narrowed eyes.

"I should have stabbed you when I had the excuse," she muttered, shoving the arrow in the quiver. Clasping her cloak around her shoulders, she snapped, "and I am twenty-two."

"That's makes you something of an old maid by the standards of man, does it not?" The brunette either did not recognize or did not care about the cross tension on her face. She glowered at him. "For how old you would be in dwarf years, as well."

"I suppose it's a good thing then, that I do not want to marry a dwarf," Eda bit. The quiver swung over her shoulder while her free hand clenched her pack, and she hurried towards the door. Her stormy expression betrayed little besides anger, but Fili caught a glimpse of horror and embarrassment before she disappeared out the door.

"You couldn't stop yourself, could you?" Fili uttered, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His face held no anger but it held no amusement either, simply an unimpressed curve in his eyebrows.

"That's the first time," Kili responded. His dark eyes moved to his brother and he strode across the room to join Fili on the bed. His own collection of new arrows rested between them.

"What is the first time?" Fili wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and fastened at the neck.

"This is the first she's gotten angry without cowardice."

"Perhaps because she was justly angry," the blond retorted with a subtle smirk. "You were hardly flattering."

"I simply called her old. How was I to know it would rile her so?" He grinned, the mischief evident despite his cool words. Fili playfully shoved his younger brother.

"A female vagabond is still a female. I have yet to meet a lass, dwarf or otherwise, that would pride in being called old. Once again, brother, I must teach you the ways of wooing a maiden." Had Kili been drinking ale, he would have choked on it. 'Wooing?' He spun to his brother with wide eyes of horror.

"Wooing?" The dwarf's voice sputtered. "I did not know your mind had such evils, Fee."

Fili's face was impassive for a second before he cracked into laughs. "I only jest, Kee. Do not fear. I don't think you're that delirious." Kili visibly relaxed but his eyebrows stayed creased. His stomach still sloshed like a boat on the last waves of a tempest, and his thoughts whipped in an unintelligible blur of chaos. The very idea of affection for the woman hit him like a hammer to his sternum.

Fili breezed past with easy comfort. It helped pull Kili from his broiling indignation and confusion to hear his brother turn to the issue of the quest. His thoughts dredged up the lingering question, like air around them it passed unacknowledged yet encompassed every inch of the company: who was hunting them? Gandalf had said "hunt." Not that the pack had stumbled across them by unfortunate luck. Hunting meant direction, it meant a person behind the hounds, and that unknown unnerved the pair.

Each brother knew without speaking how the other fared and knew as well to keep quiet. Certainly the rest of the company felt the weight of the unknown shadow creeping their quest, but far be it from Fili or Kili to bring those thoughts to voice. After all, what if someone mistook their wariness for cowardice and suggested they stay back? Too much progress had been made to give reason for doubt.

Perhaps, Kili thought, perhaps that was the very reason her words had stung. She likely hadn't meant harm by them—most of her blunders seemed to come from simple ineptitude rather than malice—but it had hit too close for Kili to stomach. He'd gotten angry. And he'd sought out a fortress to escape the siege of frustrations. Unfortunately, they seeped in like water through loose stone walls.

A part of him was scared. And he hated that part of himself. He hated that he couldn't be the brave dwarf hero of legend, the sagas and folk tales and pretend stories he'd grown up with, where Fili would always consent to play the villains just to give his younger brother a chance at glory. Here they stood at the edge of glory, about to retake Erebor, and he was scared. And he hated that she had seen it. Somehow, she had tracked it in him.

Worse, she had said it. Fili knew better; they understood each other and the things neither needed nor wanted to be said. Why couldn't she have kept it to herself? Kept it a secret that he could pretend no one but his brother knew. After all, what story ever spoke of a cowardly hero?

Amongst their meandering conversation, the door creeked open and Eda snuck into the room.

"Come to shoot my brother, Miss Eda?" Fili joked, holding his brother's shoulders despite the brunette's efforts to shrug him off. The woman exhaled noisily.

"No." She did not sound happy about her decision, but her following words came out level. "It was a trivial matter to get so upset over, after all." Kili caught her fingers constricting around the inside of her cloak. She was nervous again.

"You did act quite childish for someone so old." Fili felt the distinct need to slap the back of his brother's head.

"You would be the expert on childish behaviour now wouldn't you?" The blond dwarf laughed briskly while his brother rolled his eyes.

"I suppose you were wrong, brother," Fili cut in with a self-satisfied smile.

"As to what, dear Fee?" Kili rejoined with a sarcastic curiosity.

"She cannot stay righteously angry even when justly insulted." Fili and Kili tisked in unison, prompting the woman to take a calming inhale.

"Most definitely—"

"No dwarf-blood in that one," Fili finished his brother's sentence.

"Simply unfortunately short."

"Should I somehow feel guilt for being mature enough to calm down?" Eda asked flatly.

"Where are your convictions, dear thief? Have you no self-respect?" Kili proded with an air of disdain only his brother could read as feigned. Another deep breath on the woman's part.

"Oh, Valar save me," she muttered, throwing her hands in the air and turning on her heel. "I'm going to find the others. We leave now."

At the sound of the door's furtive click, the brothers broke into a hearty round of chuckles.

"'Have you no self-respect?'" Fili mimicked his brother between laughs. "You sounded almost elven." He earned a shove from his brother for his efforts.

"She did say she wanted to learn more of our culture," Kili remarked. His grin never left his face as they hopped from the bed in unison, grabbing their things and heading towards the door.

"Though unlikely she thought she would experience it." It wasn't a question for Fili knew exactly what parts Kili meant—both humourous and the underlying otherwise. "I am certain our company is more than up to the task."

"Even if she is not," Kili ended before the pair silently slipped out the door.

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><p>Back on the road. Woo. I have the first movie finished, but now have the difficulty of figuring out how to get a hold of the second movie. But you guys should be safe for at least a few more chapters.<p>

Thanks for the support. :) Reviews welcome.


	17. Codes

If I owned The Hobbit, I would have so much Swiss chocolate in my life. But I don't.

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><p>"Mr. Baggins, I suggest you keep up." Bilbo gave a wistful look at Rivendell in its gleaming warmth before turning to follow the company down the long and winding path. 'Away from comfort, away from safety,' thought the hobbit. 'Away from home.' The last word struck his heart ferociously and acutely, a serated needle to his chest. He missed home, his books and the warm hearth, the quiet meadows and lazy afternoons in front of his house smoking his pipe.<p>

Pebbles scattered under his feet as he tramped on. He didn't want to admit, silently or otherwise, that it just might be regret gnawing at him. At every turn, he felt grossly unprepared. The dwarves—in varying degrees—tried their best to include him within their ranks, from warm conversations to acknowledging his existence—which, after seeing their treatment of Eda, he realized was not always a given. But all the jokes of the dwarf princes and every optimistic cheer from Bofur couldn't stopper the steady trickle of uncertainty.

That morning, waking just before dawn to sneak away with the dwarves, he had risen to the singular and sincere wish that they would leave without him. They had done so once before, hadn't they? And somewhere in his foolishness, he had run after them that time. And every day since, he had followed, pushed along by some unknown reason to take another step with the company.

"Miss Eda, would you tell me more of how to track and snare?" Bilbo heard Ori's voice behind him. It seemed in their time continuing east, the young dwarf had decided to build his lexicon of knowledge. He heard the woman respond but turned away from the conversation.

The group had marched in a close, single line until the path widened and the ground stretched around them. Steadily, meters separated them as they worked over rocky fields of patched brown and grey. Bilbo could not keep from stumbling as they passed under curtains of slate-colored cliffs and breathed in the misted air of waterfalls. Sights unlike any of the Shire reminded him of the daring that had put his pen to the contract: this was what had pulled him from his hobbit hole.

Fili and Kili appeared to feel similarly enthralled with the surroundings, their eyes much brighter than those of their older kin and much more likely to stray from the path in search of something new to share. Numerous times, Bilbo caught Kili shove his brother's shoulder eagerly to point in some far distance. Bilbo was too far to hear the words—assuming they weren't speaking in Khudzul—and he couldn't see whatever they shared, but his heart felt brighter for having them in his sight.

It was for his attention on the two that Bilbo ever realized something was amiss. The waterfalls had disappeared behind them, and thick woods swelled from the ground. The group stayed in line, mostly silent, and marched through when Bilbo saw the blond dwarf stop. Kili, only a step behind his brother, stopped and shared a questioning look. Bilbo didn't hear when Fili replied, but Kili tensed enough that the Halfling's nerves shot up, his hand reaching anxiously for his sword hilt.

"Oi, what are you dallying for?" The next dwarf in the line, Gloin, blustered. The dwarves in line ahead stopped and turned at the commotion.

"Keep moving," Thorin called back, turning to continue on. At that moment, just as Fili started to call after uncle, an arrow shot from the thick shadows of the trees.

"Thorin!" shouted Dwalin as he pulled his friend from the arrow's line. It shot just a breath past Thorin's chest and buried itself deep into the tree truck behind him. In an instant, the dwarves had closed ranks, their weapons out and readied, their eyes spinning around the forest. Blibo felt a shakey hand pull his sword from his hilt.

"Show yourself, you coward!" Dwalin roared at the forest. His voice had barely the time to echo when horses charged from the green depths. Upon every horse, Bilbo could see a man brandishing one manner of terrifying weapon or another, and he could do nothing but duck as a broadsword swung at his head. The dwarves broke out with furious battlecries and charged, all manner of weapons raised. Kili let off a steady river of arrows and managed to send one rider toppling.

The others…Bilbo had thought the men few compared-though an exact count was impossible in the chaos—to the dwarf company, yet their horses moved so quickly and their height over the dwarves made it hard work for the company to land blows. Bilbo heard a hoarse yell and turned to see one such man charging towards him, his sword raised for a loping swing. Bilbo raised his sword with shaking arms and closed his eyes.

But the blow did not come. Instead, he heard a surprised yelp and a shrill whinny. Opening his eyes, he saw the horse rear to its hindlegs, nearly throwing its rider. Every time it landed back on the ground, the horse would rear again, tossing its head and almost hopping around as if the ground hurt its very hooves. Bilbo stood stupefied until he saw a flash of white on its face. He turned about wildly, his eyes finally finding the source:Eda was crouched behind a fallen tree, nearly invisible in the bushes, a dagger in one hand as she used the metal to snatch sunlight from a break in the treetops.

Catching his eye, she sent a quick lop-sided grin and turned the dagger, shooting a blaze of sunlight into another horse's eye and causing the animal to rear, disrupting its rider's lunge for Balin's head.

Bilbo's excitement was short lived, however, as he caught the shadowed movement behind the woman. He barely had time to yell her name before the shadow lept into view. One gruff hand seized her wrist, wretching it back until the dagger fell, while an arm wrapped around her neck.

"Stop!" The man's voice thundered over the commotion. Bilbo felt an uncomfortable pang of familiarity as the dwarves ceased and stared at the man with unfettered loathing. Yet again, they faced surrendering for the sake of one. Eda clawed at the man's arm with her one free hand, but made little progress beyond bleeding scratches. He stepped over the tree, dragging the woman with him, and the riders drew around him. For all their height and strength, Bilbo felt a strange sense of satisfaction at seeing their heavy breaths and various injuries. Though none would likely die—unless from infection—Bilbo could see gashes and close-calls through their armour.

"Dwarves," the man said slowly. In the speckled sunlight, Bilbo could see the man's dark eyes scanning over every member. They rested on him with a hint of surprise and confusion. "And a hobbit." He looked down at Eda, who's efforts to escape had abruptly ceased. Her eyes were wide and unseeing though Bilbo felt they shot straight through him. "Add a human to this and you are the strangest company I've yet to rob." Eda started to kick again, but her movements seemed different. All of her energy went to wrenching her wrist from the man's grip, and Bilbo tried furiously to understand what thoughts had seized her.

"We have nothing of value to thieves," growled Thorin. The man smirked.

"Everyone has something of value, Thorin Oakensheild," The air stilled with an unyielding tension, and Bilbo could hear the dwarves clenching to their weapons with renewed vigor. The man tisked nonchalantly and lifted the arm around Eda's neck, raising her off her feet and sending her fingers clawing at his arm for air. Bilbo heard a few low growls and curses around him. Eda's eyes landed on something, though, and Bilbo saw a hardened determination set in her mouth. Before he could wonder, she had bent her knee, raised her foot and slammed it back.

Likely, Bilbo thought, she had aimed for a more sensitive region of the male species, but it nevertheless did the job when her foot connected soundly to the man's thigh. His knee buckled painfully and collapsed underneath him, loosing his grip on the woman just enough that she wrenched away and spilled onto the dirt at his feet. Kili took a step towards her but Fili grabbed his arm, eyes trained on the pair. Almost parallel to the dwarves, the man's company had started to close in on Eda, but they stopped at her shout.

"You idiot!" Her voice came out hoarse and indignant. To everyone's surprise, she didn't scramble away but smacked the man across the head. He fell backwards to sit on the ground and stared in unadulterated shock at the woman. She thrust out her arm and yanked her sleeve up to the elbow to show the bands on her wrist. "Did you forget all about this or are you simply stupid?"

"Eda?" The man stuttered. She stood to her feet, wobbling slightly, and glared at the man. "Eda!" He grinned and rushed to his feet. A second later, the dwarves shared very perturbed—and no shortage of angry—looks amongst themselves as the man enveloped Eda in a hug.

"Don't hug me, you big oaf! You nearly suffocated me!" Eda shoved against his chest, and he stepped back.

"How was I to know it was you?" He retorted innocently. "It's not like I've ever held you like that before." Her eyes narrowed dangerously but his grin never faded.

"Excuse me," Balin attempted to step in diplomatically.

"What is going on here?" Thorin thundered. His eyes were shadowed and dark upon the man and his company. Bilbo found most of the dwarves wearing similar expressions as they kept a suspicious eye on the men. Eda opened her mouth to speak when the man brushed past her and stepped towards Thorin. Bilbo could practically feel the fuse threatening to spark as the dwarves shifted warily on their feet. The man stopped just an arm's distance from Thorin, and Bilbo had trouble deciding who seemed more imposing. While the dwarf King barely reached the man's chest, the air around him almost simmered with barely-constrained power. The Halfling was reminded of the night he heard the story of the pale orc and the way Thorin had stood strong in the moonlight. At that time, Bilbo had realized the weight and the strength in the dwarf, the weights he shouldered for hisself and his people, and he had glimpsed the King Balin spoke so reverently of. That same regality cloaked the dwarf as he stood and matched stares with the man.

While tall, Bilbo could see the man was fit yet underfed, his cheekbones sharp under the unkept stubble. His fingerless gloves were nearly as dirty as his fingers and well-patched like his dark cloak. Perhaps the dwarves had looked as ratty before Rivendell—and chance was they would likely look so in the future—but the man looked a beggar in comparison to Thorin.

"Who are you that you would dare attack us?" Thorin returned the comment with a question.

"Even if I gave you a name, it would never be true," replied the man blithely. "Though I know who you are. Never thought I'd see Thorin Oakensheild stroll 'round these parts." The dwarves growled at the repeated use of Thorin's name.

"You never saw anyone," Eda stepped in verbally as she put herself at their side.

"Oh, yeah?" The man raised an eyebrow in a challenge, and Thorin's hand tightened upon the hilt of his sword. He looked at the sky for just a second then at the woman. "You know, the sun ain't never been this bright before." Bilbo frowned with the rest of the dwarves. He heard Dwalin's gruff voice saying they should kill the lot and be done with it. From the itch of several dwarves, it seemed the feeling was running through several minds; the only thing holding them back was the apparent change in Eda's relation to the attacker and her physical presence near the man. As well the mounted cavalry waiting with ready broadswords and bows.

"The sun isn't that big," Eda shot back, her eyebrows knit in confusion like the rest.

"Oh, ya must not know your `stronomy. Haven't been payin` attention much." He rested a hand on her head and ruffled her hair much to her chagrin.

"Stop lecturing me on pointless things, Kagan," she growled, shoving his hand off her head. "We're going to continue on, and you will speak of nothing." She held up her wrist to show the bands on her arm. His eyes caught on the leather and his expression softened.

"That helps you. It says nothing of them." Gloin bristled at Bilbo's side, and the hobbit could hear several murmured growls in the group.

"They're with me. You start something with them, and you won't be able to keep me from it," Eda replied carefully, her eyes uncommonly dark and hard. Both sides fell silent. The two humans stayed silent, eyes locked, for a breath before the man nodded and turned back to his men. Waving his hand, they scattered, swallowed up by the forest shadows.

"Eda," the man turned to them, his eyes fixing on the woman. Her shoulders sagged subtly. "Watch out, okay, love? The boulders have made big tracks in these woods. It's a lot more dangerous than you would think." She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. "I have a letter from your brother, actually." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a tattered parchment. Folding it into a small square, he walked forward and shook the woman's hand with both of his own. A second paused between them as he stared in her eyes. Then he was walking away and gone into the bush.

"What just happened?" Bilbo found the words first. Eda looked up from her clasped hands to meet his eyes and smiled weakly.

"Old friend," she answered.

"A thief," Thorin snapped, sheathing his sword while the others relaxed.

"That is part of why you wanted me, wasn't it?" Eda retorted quietly. Her eyes had returned to her closed hands. She broke from her trance a second later and shoved the parchment in a pocket. "The skills I have from my trade. The connections." As the dwarves settled down, she walked over and picked up her discarded dagger from the ground. Thorin didn't appear appeased by her explanation, but Balin broke in to suggest they start moving.

Dwalin barked that they should still have cut them all down and left earlier, but the dwarves started back on their way without many other words, and Bilbo found himself ambling once again in a line through the woods. This time, however, his eyes stayed on the surroundings with a renewed anticipation, one he felt the others all had as well; the experience had reminded everyone of the various dangerous hidden in the shadows, and their pace quickened.

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><p>Fili turned at the sound of his name and saw Eda standing behind him. "Can you help me with something?" He looked at his brother, shrugged his shoulders, and stood. Gloin paid him no attention as he walked away from the kindling. The dwarves had reached the edge of the forest when Thorin called for camp, and most of the company was busy with their various duties. In a turn, Thorin had sent neither Kili nor Eda out to hunt, a move that surprised more than simply the two involved, but Fili didn't try to decode his uncle's reasoning.<p>

When he reached her side, Eda started walking and he found himself further in the shadows swarming the edges of their camp.

"What is it?" He asked, caught between wariness and curiosity. She reached into her pocket and retrieved a folded piece of parchement. Fili recognized it as the letter from home—what had the man said, her brother? Realization dawned and he reached for it quietly.

"You know, you could tell the others you can't read," he said carefully, his fingers unfolding the paper.

"That's not it," Eda murmured. He stared in confusion at the words before him. She called his name and his eyes lifted to hers.

"Wha—"

"I need you to help me figure this out." She exhaled slowly in a way he had come to realize as calming herself. "And I need you to keep this a secret." His eyes returned to the letter. Though the words inked were certainly Westron, they did not make any sense. First, they were the long hand for different numbers. Add to that the brevity of the entire thing, hardly two sentences, and he was thoroughly confused. "Fili." she called again, and he again looked up at her, words ready to demand explanation. The desperate anxiety in her eyes caught him, though, and he settled for grumbling and a severe look of perplexity.

"What's the first word?"

Fili stared at the paper. "Sixteen." Eda abruptly started humming, and he looked up to find her eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. Her finger danced in the air as if ticking lines in a row. Her eyes did not open when she asked for the next number or the one after that. He felt torn between annoyance and bewilderment as she continued ceaselessly, each time humming and counting with her finger—for he quickly realized the counts of her finger matched not only the rhythm of her tune but the number she sought. After the first sentence, he tried again to cut in for an explanation, but she didn't even open her eyes when she told him to wait. Waiting didn't seem so hard until the numbers grew. First sixteen then twenty two, four then fourty-three. And every time she started from the beginning of her secret song until Fili was leaning against a tree trunk in abject boredom.

"What's going on?" Kili's voice cut in. Fili bolted to his feet while Eda's eyes snapped open, her song prematurely short.

"N-nothing," she managed.

"What's that?" Kili peeked at the parchment in Fili's hands but saw nothing when Eda pushed it against Fili's chest and stepped between the brothers.

"Nothing," rushed the woman. Kili's eyes went to his brother, who sighed internally but nodded.

"It's nothing, Kee," Fili assured him. It didn't take their sibling bond for Fili to recognize the dissatisfied glimmer in his brother's eyes, though.

"Fine," murmured the brunette slowly, his eyes flicking between the pair. He stepped away without hurry, eyes still upon them until he returned to the fire. Eda let out a shakey breath and her shoulders slumped. Fili raised an eyebrow but said nothing besides, "You can remove your hands now." She lept back, stammering her apology, before taking a series of deep breaths and returning to her hum. Fili rolled his eyes and collapsed back upon the tree trunk to wait for the end of boredom. Just nine more words to go.

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><p>Eda returned to the camp in a daze. Vaguely, she was aware of the bowl Bofur handed her and the steamy savour of stew rising to her nose, but she sat down on the fire's edge without a thought to eat.<p>

'Travel dwarf King beneath Mountain want dead or alive. Gold for head serve to wolf orc.' Her mind echoed with the words until it rang like a sickening song. The cipher called for simple conjugation and context clues, but she could easily understand what it meant: The King Under the Moutain was traveling, and Gundabad orcs had a price on his head. Dead or alive.

'So he warned me,' she thought of Kagan and his warning. 'Boulders leave a large path.' They weren't being secret enough, not enough for a group being tracked and hunted, a group wanted dead or alive. 'The sun is larger,' she had racked her brain at the time to remember the translation, but it sprang forward with a twist in her stomach. The reward for them is large—larger than Kagan had heard of in a long time. Possibly enough that anyone not currently occupied could turn an eye to watch—or that even those with a job might keep a look. 'No,' she realized silently as her eyes landed on the dwarves circled around the fire. 'We aren't being secret enough.'

"What did your brother say?" She jumped and immediately regretted the decision. What felt like half the contents of her bowl splashed down her front and into her lap, and she swore a string beneath her breath. Gingerly, she set the remainder on the ground and surveyed the mess seeping into her clothes. Kili hastily put his bowl to the side and searched for something to help the spill. Unfortunately clean clothes were in short supply, and she waved a hand to tell him to cease. After removing the bits of meat and vegetable from her lap, she twisted her cloak in her hand and pressed it to the stains.

"You'll stain your cloak," Kili started, but Eda shrugged.

"It's not like it is the cleanest thing," she said nonchalantly. It sopped up the liquid enough that she was satisfied, though Kili was right that it did nothing for the stain down her front and trousers. 'Maybe the stew will cover the smell of no bathing,' she suggested silently for optimism. She eyed her bowl for a second before deciding against it and turned to Kili.

"What can I help you with?" He sat down beside her, his dark eyes roaming her face under knitted brows.

"What did your brother say?" His face relaxed and he dug into his stew while waiting for her response. Eda stumbled and "nothing" slipped out before she could think of a better lie. He raised an eyebrow and her gut sank as she read the disbelieving expression on his face. "Nothing? Really? Or are you simply refusing to tell me?" She didn't know why she felt like his voice held a bite to it, but his eyes were trained on her.

"No, it's just not important," Eda insisted. "He was simply saying everyone at home is well and healthy." She knew she should have left it at that but something in his eyes made her want him to believe her, so she added, "My sister is even with child now." Instead of his expression lightening, his eyes narrowed.

"How interesting." The way he spoke Eda knew she had made a mistake. She didn't know how but somehow, he had caught her. "Because Fili said he wrote about your sister getting married and his successful smithery. Those sound like two different letters." Eda cursed the blond brother silently, though she knew he could hardly be blamed. If she hadn't tacked on that detail of her sister's pregnancy, perhaps there could have been a chance to weasel out—always make them show you their hand first, wasn't that the rule?—but Eda had a distinct suspicion he had already figured it out well before sitting down. Her defeated sigh seemed to be Kili's cue as he started in, "Why would Fili lie to me? What did that letter say? Was it even from your brother? Why did he get to read it and I can't?" Eda held her hands up in a silent plea for a pause which Kili begrudgingly gave.

Her mind whirred in the silence. He still thought it was from her brother—or could be from her brother. She could keep with that and lie about something sad or dark, something that Fili might reasonably hide to save her dignity or feelings. Or she could reveal what it actually said and risk whatever reaction the dwarves may have for the news.

Would they care to know there was a price on Thorin's head? Already, Gandalf had said someone was hunting them, and they had already faced the orcs. If the message hadn't given a specific name of a person behind the hunt, would it do any good to share? In the seconds it took for the thoughts to swamp her mind, her eyes had met Kili's. His eyes softened, though still determined, and she fell out of her thoughts with a low exhale. "Come on," the prince murmured. "Trust me."

"You promise you won't tell anyone?" Somehow she knew his answer didn't matter, but she asked anyway, trying to convince herself she still had some control of conversation. He nodded warily. "It wasn't from my brother. Kagan was passing information." She inhaled deeply. "There's a price on Thorin's head." She let the sentence hang and watched the dwarf carefully. It didn't read shock or anger—in fact, it hardly changed much. "That's why Kagan pieced together Thorin's identity so easily; someone sent out word of his traveling and has basically put him at the front of every smuggler, thief and bandit's mind."

"Gandalf already said someone was hunting us," Kili spoke carefully but with surprising calm.

"Yes, but the note said the call is from Gundabad orcs. And Kagan said it's the largest reward he's heard of." Trying to emphasize the weight of that idea, she added, "and he's been in these circles for decades. He's earned those high rewards and high stakes yet even this surprises him."

"If he's earned so well, why is he still a thief?" Kili looked unimpressed but she could see the caution growing in his eyes.

"He's a horrid gambler," she said with a wave of her hand. "That's not the point. What I mean is that every low-life is looking for your uncle. On top of the orcs already hunting us." Her next words required a deep inhale to steady, "I know the pale orc was killed by your uncle, but is it possible someone is hunting him for revenge?" It took only a second for the dwarf's eyes to set in determination, and Eda let out a yelp as he jumped to his feet.

Her fingers grasped for his cloak but missed their mark as he took off, marching over to his uncle. She yelled for him to wait and scrambled to her feet, cursing her weakness to tell him. Of course he wouldn't keep it a secret; she should have known. By the time she reached them, she could hear Kili explaining what she had said. Fili, who had been sitting to his uncle's side, looked over at her when she arrived.

"That's what that letter said?" He sounded almost betrayed. Thorin shot his older nephew a questioning look. "She had me help her…" his voice faded as her expression fell. 'No hiding now,' she ran a hand over her face in exasperation and tried to suppress a groan.

"Help her with what?" Balin joined in, and Eda grimaced internally as the dwarves turned their attention to the conversation.

Through her fingers, Eda could see Fili watching her apprehensively, torn over the next words. Dropping her hand, she let out a short sigh and said, "Help me read." From the look on the dwarves' faces, they seemed perplexed, not fully grasping the underlying confession. She growled and clutched her cloak in her hands before grinding out, "I-I can't read."

Reactions varied. She could practically taste the confused shock from Kili, while Ori and Dori shot her looks like they pitied her. Bofur appeared nonplussed, and from a glance around the camp, it appeared most felt some astonishment but nothing terribly strong towards her words. Perhaps they hadn't expected a human woman to read in the first place—most in Middle Earth had a hard enough time believing her capable of her job let alone academia. Her eyes landed last on Thorin, and she recognized the expression. Not shock but rather the lack of made her realize she had only confirmed his theory. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to ask, but he started first.

"You never write in any of your dealings. Your report had no writing as well, and your signature was childish," he explained curtly. She recognized from his tone that he had no interest in continuing the matter. "What did the letter say?" He looked between Fili and Eda, offering either to explain.

"It was just numbers in long-hand," he explained, and Eda pulled the parchment from her pocket. Thorin took it and looked it over carefully. His eyes rose to Eda's in a silent command to explain.

"The numbers tell me what word I count to,"

"And what do you use as your cipher?" Balin interjected.

'"A poetic saga. It contains many of the words we could ever possibly need to communicate," she replied carefully. A piece of her hoped they would cease the questioning, but none of the dwarves showed intentions of such a kindness.

"And you only use this one saga?" Thorin asked, still looking the paper over. 'No trade secrets any more,' she thought bitterly. When she hesitated, his eyes pierced into her with the silent regality she wanted desperately to avoid. She swiftly point at the lower corner of the parchment where a large ink stain had blotted the corner.

"That particular ink and location tells me which cipher to use," she muttered, her voice and quick movements betraying her frustration at the continued pestering. Thorin gave no sign of remorse.

"You can memorize sagas, recognize ink and all that but you can't read?" Kili blurted out. Eda glared at him.

"And you can remember codes," Balin mused aloud. His eyes rested on her with a kind of serene recognition that made her fidgit. "That is what the sun conversation was after all, wasn't it?" Her stomach dropped. How had he picked up on that? Judging from the confusion on many of the others' faces, Balin had been the only one to figure it out—though Thorin looked like he had realized something obvious.

"He was warning me of the danger. The letter doesn't speak of a reward, but he said it was the largest he'd seen in a long time." The dwarves started to shift and murmur amongst themselves.

"How much?" Thorin demanded. Eda stared at him incredulously and shrugged her shoulders.

"How should I know?"

"You didn't ask?"

Her eyes narrowed. She knew exactly where that comment came from. "No, I didn't ask. I said I didn't believe him, and so he gave me this." She gestured to the paper in Thorin's hand.

"This helps, but it doesn't give us much new information, lass," admitted Balin. He spoke diplomatically, and Eda found herself appreciating the effort on his part. She shot a pointed look at Kili who shrugged it off without a thought or remorse.

"It tells us to be more cautious," Thorin asserted grimly, and Eda could see his eyes flitting over the group. Even from their seats in the firelight, Eda could see the loyalty in every face. After a second of silence, Gloin nodded sharply and told Ori to fetch more water. "We're dousin' this fire," he stated matter-of-factly. Not a dwarf dared protest, and Ori disappeared.

"How many more companies can we expect to find in these woods?" Dwalin raised the issue, and Eda felt eyes on her. It took a second for her to acclimatize to the attention but she managed to respond, "a good number."

"I assume you don't have a loyalty band from each of them, do you?" Bofur jested with hopeful anxiety. She shook her head.

"We were lucky to run into Kagan first," she admitted, though she felt certain they hardly counted it lucky to run into thieves at all—her friends or otherwise.

"Do you know where these groups are?" Eda unintentionally sent him a look that suggested just how idiotic she found his question, but dropped the expression under his hard gaze.

"Some. They move, but I know generalities and I could possibly track them if I can find the hints," she admitted. The dwarf king nodded pensively, and she fidgeted under his gaze. It felt utterly disarming the way he could scrutinize while giving nothing of his own thoughts.

"At first light, scout the path ahead." He left no room for argument and Eda's shoulders slumped. "You will have one hour to return and give your report at which we will continue on." Ori shuffled through the brush, his arms taught from the full water skins in his hands. Nori and Dori jumped to their feet and helped him carry them to the fire's brim.

"Fili, Kili, take first watch. We will double from now on," Thorin declared. The brothers nodded silently as the dwarves doused the water in torrents of water. Darkness crept in as the embers sputtered out.

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><p>Leave a thought on your way out. :)<p> 


	18. The Ground Beneath You

Disclaimer: Hello, everyone. Not mine. 'cept Eda. :D Enjoy. Leave a thought, please!

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><p>When Thorin awoke to the feeble sunrise, he glanced around the camp for the distinctive cloak. Coloured somewhere between forest green and dusky brown, the dwarf had easily come to recognize the colour as the woman's. A few of the dwarves stirred, and Thorin glimpsed the hobbit rustling with slow-coming consciousness, but the trapper was nowhere to be seen.<p>

"Woke her at first light," Dwalin spoke and Thorin turned to see his friend leaning against a tree. Balin rested beside him. Thorin merely nodded and stood. He knew Dwalin well enough to know it would only take a matter of minutes before the dwarf finally spoke the questions on his mind.

"You trust her to not turn us in?" Thorin's lips set firm. If it weren't for the fact that he had just reason, Thorin would have easily dismissed the issue. She had supposedly saved them once from the men lurking the forest shadows, but that was, in all truth, only according to her word. No one actually knew what the codes said except for the thieves, and they were forced to take her word for it. Thorin knew all these arguments and suspicions for they had blown into full force the moment Kili approached him. Throughout their questioning, Thorin had continued to wait, pushing and proding like one might test out a horse or inspect armour. Without any other option, he had decided to order a scout.

"She has been loyal so far," Balin pointed out, the calm rational to his brother's hot-headed suspicion. Thorin knew of the woman's apology in Rivendell, though he had not been present to hear it.

"There wasn't an opportunity for reward before," Dwalin shot back. "She even admitted it was formidable. Who's to say she didn't agree to something in that code of hers?" Thorin knew his old friend was voicing these suspicions as much for himself as for Thorin's sake; and they weren't unfair. The woman was clearly driven by gold. If she stood a chance for a faster, easier earning, Thorin felt less than confident in her moral strength to forego such an opportunity.

"We will know by the end of today," interjected the dwarf King. Around them, the other company members started to rise and amble through their preparations for the day. "I do not fear those men hunting these woods. We are stronger than the vagabonds, and if she turns us over, we will have our answer." After all, that was the decision he had come to the night before: a test. It did not escape Thorin that his men, while smaller in stature to the mounted thieves, still managed to land more and greater blows. Had it not been for her capture and subsequent reunion, Thorin felt confident they would have defeated the thieves. If she chose to lead them astray or arrange a similar event, Thorin felt confident his men would do so again.

All this did not keep him from heaving a silent sigh. Somewhere in the course of their travels, the dwarf had come to understand why Gandalf had selected the hobbit. While almost entirely useless in battle and thieving, at least the Halfling was trustworthy—even if it came from a place of naivety. Thorin never once worried that Bilbo would betray them for an easy pay. Even when he had to reprimand the hobbit for a slow pace or wandering attention, Thorin found himself wishing he had never called upon the trapper and introduced the veritable unknown into their quest. The realization that he had done so and endangered his kin in the process made the dwarf even more determined to test the woman at every turn. He would not be the one to endanger his company, for as much as they had come to support him, he felt even more so responsible for protecting them within all possibility. They gave him their loyalty, and he knew he would do anything to repay them.

"How long has she been gone?" Thorin asked while his eyes followed Bifur around the camp. The dwarf stopped to talk to Bofur and Fili, gesturing to the corpse of last night's fire.

"Not yet an hour. She should be returning soon," Balin answered and stood to his feet. The older dwarf gazed at Thorin silently and gently. Thorin bowed his head to show he could hear his friend's suggestion. He turned from the topic and rejoined his kin in preparing for the day.

True to Balin's estimate, she returned shortly thereafter, making large rustles to notify the dwarves of her approach. She stepped out of the underbrush to a company of dwarves battle ready and alert and stopped short. When the recognized her and lowered their weapons, she walked to Thorin.

"If we continue across the plains and into the mountains before the pass, you shouldn't have any troubles," she testified. Thorin's eyes honed in upon her. Her hazel eyes didn't flicker more than normal, but he felt the need to question further.

"You didn't find anyone?" His voice rang of suspicion.

"I did," she stated flatly. "But I sent them in a different direction." Her voice became suddenly stilted as if uncomfortable with the words. Something in the way her eyes locked onto his told him she wouldn't reveal any more even if he demanded it, and he relinquished.

"Lead the way," he ordered. Over her shoulder, Thorin caught several sparks of surprise. Even the woman wore a look of blatant bewilderment, but he didn't speak again and settled to instead stare at her until she awkwardly stumbled towards the head of the line.

"Thorin," Dwalin murmured gruffly. "What if she leads us to a trap?"

"Then she will be the first to step into that trap," Thorin countered quietly. His eyes were dark and focused on the rusted green cloak now leading their company out of the forest and across the plains.

They stayed that way through the first day and the next, the woman in the lead through the plains and along the mountain ridges. Only when they reached the mountain pass did Thorin call for her to stop. The pass was a narrow ledge of rock along the mountain side, and Thorin felt confident no one could stage an attack in such conditions. He took the lead and met the gaze of Balin, who pointed to the looming billows of grey-blue in the sky.

"We could wait here until the storm passes," the white-haired dwarf suggested. Thorin shook his head. Delay was not an option, not for something as slight as rain.

"Move quickly," he commanded and took the lead on the path.

Eda watched the line of dwarves shuffle past her and let out a heavy sigh. The past two days had felt like sneaking round a hen house or pilfering sweets in a busy household; constantly alert and nearly twitchy, her nerves were frayed and her head beat a dull headache. She caught sight of a familiar blond and fell into line at the space he provided. He offered a noncommittal smile which she returned with sincerity and relief.

"Not much for leading?" he inquired lightly, causing the woman to let out an exasperated chuckle.

"Not in the least," she returned over her shoulder.

The path grew jagged under their feet like stone grass. Eda hardly noticed the changes until her foot stumbled on a surprise drop and her hand scraped across the mountainside to steady herself. Sharp overhangs and precipices bit at her hand as it grasped for a hold. In theory it felt like the steep cliffs of Rivendell, but in the growing grey haze of the clouds, the mountain seemed almost metallic. Eda felt even more certain when the clouds threw sheets of cold rain and harsh winds upon their shoulders. Eda immediately threw her hood over her head and hunched against the wind, her hand painfully clutching to the serrated rock face as she worked her way along the path.

It felt like twenty ages of misery before Eda heard Thorin shout something through the rain. Her whole body trembled as a gust of wind tore through the group and sent a spattering of icy rain into their faces. Lightening cracked in the clouds, and the woman would have sworn she could feel the energy pulsing dangerously in the sky. A second later, she heard Dwalin yell, and everyone's attention fell in horror at the boulder hurtling through the air.

The mountain quaked as the boulder collided, and Eda crouched as low and close to the mountain as possible, hands gripping a hold so tightly it felt near puncturing her skin. She could heard the others hollering and swearing while her hands felt every tremor of the mountain as the boulder cascaded down its side. Pebbles tumbled upon them like rain. Eda winced as a rock hit her shoulder but didn't dare let go. Vaguely, she heard Balin cry out and Bofur's amazed voice ring out about giants. For all her curiosity, her eyes stayed tightly sealed. Only when she felt someone pull on her wrist did she dare look.

"We have to keep moving," he shouted over the whipping wind. Just as she stood, the rock beneath her feet started to shudder and crack. Her eyes locked onto Kili's, and he grabbed her forearm and pulled her towards him. As her foot left, she felt the sickening sensation of giving way, and grabbed hold of the mountain in time to turn and see a crack splitting the rock.

'It can't be,' her heart hammered in her ears, but she could hear Fili calling his brother's name. The rock rumbled and shook and Eda clutched to Kili's arm as much to keep herself stable as to keep him from leaping the distance to his brother. His dark eyes were transfixed on his brother in a look of lost panic. Rocks showered upon them with every movement of the giant.

"Kili!" Eda yelled over the cacophonous noise. The giant shuddered and jerked, and Eda gripped the rock wall with one hand and the dwarf prince with the other. Her fingers slipped on his soaked tunic, and she scrambled to grasp him. Her hand clutched his wrist before she tossed caution over the ledge and took his hand. His skin was wet and cold against hers but she seized it tightly, as much for her sake as his. When he still couldn't jarr from his stupor, she raised his hand in hers and thumped him on the chest, still shouting his name. He blinked rapidly and locked her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak when the giant plunged through the air, crashing into the mountainside. The dwarves broke into a run through the cascading hail of stone and Eda all but collapsed as she made the last jump onto the path. Behind her, the giant had pulled away, and she felt Kili squeeze her hand painfully, his eyes transfixed on the remainder of the crew racing past them.

Someone yelled and Eda pushed herself against the mountain wall as a fist scraped the rocks above them. Her breathing was coming shallow and quick and the pressure of Kili's hand did little to calm her panicked nerves. There was nothing she could do, she realized. Nothing but hold on til her hands bled and pray for luck. A boulder careened down, knicking her shoulder before taking a bite of the narrow ledge beneath her feet. A second later and a cavernous howl shook the air. Again, someone yelled, and Eda shut her eyes tight. Her fingers tightened around Kili's hand, but he made no move to retract. The mountain jolted. Wind shot over them as something toppled down the cavern. It was only when she heard yells that she opened her eyes to see the other half of their party barreling past them on the giant's knee. A second later, they started careening in a different direction, and Eda's hand nearly broke in Kili's grasp. They were headed for a straight collision with the mountain.

Somewhere her hoarse voice mingled with the terrified shouts and bellows of the dwarves beside her, but it died the moment she heard the sickening crash. It felt like her heart had disintegrated in her chest, simply whisped away like steam, except it was also somehow boiling in every part of her. Her skin felt like it was shaking and suddenly too tight. Her breath heaved, and she stumbled forward. Kili had released her hand and raced as fast as he could for the site, and Thorin's tormented roars echoed over the wind. And then silence. Eda raced around the edge to see the dwarves hurrying to their friends' sides, pulling them to stand and giving joyous hugs. Her breath rattled out and her knees felt weak, but she leaned limply against the mountainside, a pure smile on her face.

Bofur stopped in front of her and started looking in every direction. The worry clear on his face shot through her stomach and wiped the smile from her face.

"Where's Bilbo? Where's the hobbit?" His voice raised in anxiety. "There!" Her eyes caught on the small fingers desperately clutching the ledge, and her blood froze. In a split second, the dwarves dove forward, yelling and leaning precariously over the edge in efforts to reach their friend. Her feet carried her forward, and she tried to catch sight of the hobbit through the throngs on the company. To her side, she caught sight of movement and turned in time to see Thorin leap over the edge and swing towards Bilbo's side. She dropped to her knees while Thorin grabbed the hobbit's pack and pushed him into the safe hold of the dwarves. Thorin had started his own climb when she caught the jerk in his movement. Dwalin was right beside her as they lept for the dwarf's arms as he slipped down the cliff. Dwalin heaved, and Eda felt her muscles straining in every effort to pull him over the ledge. When the king's upper body reached the path, she let go and fell back, her breath erratic and desperate. Her fingers shook, and she fisted them into the drenched fabric of her cloak.

"I thought we'd lost our burglar." She heard Dwalin speak but the rest came fuzzy through her ears, her attention falling away from the conversation, from the world. Someone stood before her but her eyes couldn't find focus, her mind feeling eerily blank and her breathing slowing yet still thin. The person grabbed her arms just below the shoulders and guided her to her feet.

"It was only luck." The words fumbled out her mouth, and her eyes met sympathetic blue. Fili nodded but said nothing.

"Come on, lassie," Balin called gently. Her limbs started to reawaken, and she hurried down the path. Bofur stepped aside as she entered and gave her a small smile. Her nerves still frayed, she felt grateful that they could at least remember the action enough to give him one in return. Her fingers opened and closed around the fabric of her cloak until she felt certain she had squeezed every drop of water from the small patches. It settled her nerves, though, and her blood warmed, her breath evening.

Gloin tossed logs into the center of the room and clapped his hands, eagerly declaring the call for a fire.

"No, no fires," proclaimed Thorin. "Not in this place." It took little guessing to see the dispair on every face. Eda shivered and crouched low to the round, rubbing her hands over her arms. Still, for their disappointment, no one made any protests, and Thorin removed his sword. "Get some sleep. We start at first light."

Balin walked past her but she tuned out their conversation and dropped her pack to the ground with abandon. The dwarves peeled off their thick cloaks and started unpacking bedrolls. Somewhere beneath her drenched clothing and shivers, Eda could feel her stomach feebly begging for food. Hearing her name, she looked up to see Thorin walking away. She looked amongst the nearest dwarves, and Bofur managed a smile.

"Looks like we have watch together."

Many of the dwarves felt the same grumbling hunger in their guts but they opted for heavy and immediate rest instead. Eda sat on her bedroll and watched them fall asleep in their small family units. Bofur sat a few strides away from her, his back against the wall and his fingers working on a small chip of wood in his hands. An arm's length to her side, Fili had settled on the groundbeside his brother. Their hushed conversations hummed like a quiet song in the hollow cavern.

Bofur's chuckle rang softly. Though the woman didn't say much, he could see the pensive look on her face. Bofur knew the lads spoke in Khudzul even from his distance, and it was impossible the woman knew what they spoke of—even if she had picked up words somehow. His knife dug into the wood in his hand and chipped away at the carving.

His thoughts trickled away from the cavern with each small incision. Instead of wet caverns, he thought of his small shop in Ered Luin, remembering market days and his favourite customers. He dug the tip of his knife into the piece and twisted to splinter off a thin sliver. It was at that point that he recognized the heat of an attentive companion.

"How do you do that?" Eda's eyes were wide and light-heartedly enthralled from where she sat beside him, almost pressed against his side in her efforts to pear closer.

"Never seen a toy-maker at work, Miss Eda?" Bofur quipped with a grin. She shook her head, strands of her dark hair cluttering her face and shoulders from where the day had pulled them from her braid.

"How did you learn?" She looked up and her eyes widened. Likely, she had realized just how close she was as her cheeks flushed and she hastily withdrew. Bofur chuckled, putting a rest to his work.

"I took an apprenticeship once I came of age," he explained. He could read the confusion well enough across her face. "Dwarf lads and lasses go through compulsory schooling. After they are finished, many find apprenticeships or start working."

"What is school for then?" Bofur nearly laughed at the innocuous question.

"We learn runes, writing, arithmetic and reading," Fili's voice reached across the distance, and Bofur and Eda both leaned around to see the two brothers watching them from the bedrolls. "Among other things."

"Don't you have school?" Despite Kili's genial tone, Bofur felt the woman tense. Her eyes were trained on the dwarf, concealing her expression from Bofur but for the downward twitch in her lips.

"Yes," her tone was measured and controlled, cautious.

"Did your father not want you to go?" Her eyes moved from the princes to Bofur, who could easily read the confusion on her face.

"We know the race of men is often worse towards women than we dwarves treat our lasses," Fili attempted to explain in a more diplomatic manner.

"My parents never objected to an education." She carefully controlled her voice, and Bofur started to search for a way to escape the discussion. From the tension he could see in her neck and read her voice, it likely wasn't a topic she wanted to share with them. Fili appeared to feel similarly as he tried to coax Kili in Khudzul to let it go.

"Then why can't you read?" Fili, whether noticing the roll in Bofur's eyes or not, smacked his brother on the arm, making a hurried and pointed whisper about tact. The woman tensed, evidently struck in a sensitive spot, and her words came out sharply.

"Well even if I could, it wouldn't much matter since you people only see fit speak in your secret language around me." She brought her knees close to her chest and folded her arms, hunkering down like an angry boulder.

Kili sputtered indignantly. "What do you mean 'you people'? You speak codes—"

"Not all the time," she fired back. "Didn't they teach your manners at your fancy school? Or were you too busy learning about how you're better than everyone else who can't do all those things?" She stood to her feet as Kili sat up straight, offended.

"That's unfair." He did speak as if a whine or indignant, but almost calmly. Calm but for the angry tremour. She shook out her cloak, her eyes glaring at the ground and making a pointed act of ignoring her. "We never said we looked down on you or thought ourselves better simply because you can't—" Her dark snort cut him off, and Bofur caught Fili's eye, making a pointed look at the brunette dwarf. Fili put a hand on his brother's arm, rooting him to the ground despite the lad's evident desire to stand up and match her.

"It's not that I can't read," Eda began crossly. Her hands fisted in the fabric of her cloak and like pulling some strength from it, she raised her eyes to them. "I can read. I am not stupid, and I'm not completely incapable or uncultured. It's not a matter of whether I can or not, but if I learn to do it. If I had stayed in school, I could learn to read and write. But you're going to judge my family off some stupid standard you have for how everyone should be without giving a single thought to why some people never learn to read." Her fists tightened and her arms extended, pulling the cloak taut over her shoulders. With a furious exhale, she turned on her heel and practically ran out of the cavern.

Bofur sighed heavily, falling into the cavern wall and feeling the tension he hadn't even realize he'd carreid slip out his body. He could hear the urgent insisting from Fili that Kili not go after her and put a lop-sided smile to his own face.

"Well, that could've been worse," he chipped in. It had the desired effect as the lads ceased, their attention turning to him. Kili wore a look of disbelief while Fili's mouth twitched in a twisted humor. But it also gave them the breath to pause and calm down, Fili lying on his bedroll and insisting Kili do the same. Bofur nearly laughed when he heard Fili tease his younger brother: "next time you want to offer to teach her something, let me bring up the subject." The younger prince grunted and pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders, offering nothing further to the world.

Bofur took up his knife and wood once again as the brothers drifted off to sleep. Communication definitely seemed to be an issue for this company. Amongst the dwarves, there were some skirmishes and arguments, but those came form their open commraderie and always managed to right themselves. Yet their interactions with the elves, with the woman and even with Gandalf were problematic—some more than others. Bofur knew even his optimism was not enough to hope Thorin would accept aid and a civilized relationship with elves, but it worried him to what cost their exclusivity may come. To think of reaching Erebor by only their feet was foolish to even his ears. After all, they already worked with a woman smuggler, a wizard and a hobbit. Unfortunately, it seemed that Gandalf had the best sense of diplomacy and yet he was the one currently missing from their group. Instead they had a smuggler with apparent cultural differences and a hobbit with almost an opposite problem. Inevitably, he had differences, but he hardly spoke for them. Bofur wondered, as he knew many of the other dwarves did, how the hobbit had managed to stick with them—especially given Thorin's gruff treatment of him. As his thoughts meandered, Bofur's ears caught the noise of a shifting cloak. His eyes snagged on a small figure picking his way across the cavern floor.

Outside the cave, Eda huddled under a crag, glowering at the mountains' silhouettes. The rain pattered feebly but the wind supplemented with strong and abrupt gusts. As another whipped through the range, she turned her back to it, nearly leaning against it as if were as solid as the rock beneath her feet. It died down and whispered away, leaving her to try and massage the fury from her brow. A part of her was still baffled at the anger she found. She easily remembered the embarrassment she'd felt when she'd told, confessed, to Fili that she couldn't read. Yet something in the way Kili had brought it up was different, and it had infuriated her.

Or was it not something he'd done but something in her? Another gale wind sent her huddling in her cloak, her fingers clenching the wet fabric in a bid to keep it close around her frame. Easily, she could pinpoint what the younger prince had done differently: he had made it an issue of surprise; he had questioned her family and culture; he had spoken as if it was an oddity, a misfortune upon her. The beating wind at her back dissipated and with it she breathed, deep, heavy intakes of the crisp air and long, relaxing exhales.

She didn't feel like a misfortune, and she had never regretted her choice, never wished she had stayed to learn instead of taking the life she had. But something in the way he had spoken—or perhaps something as elementary as the words he'd chosen—and risen her defenses and this surprise flood of doubt. She had come to appreciate, cherish, even, the prince's company and the stories they shared. To consider that she would somehow no longer be good enough for his friendship—if she felt bold enough to call it such—chilled her marrow. 'But he hadn't said such a thing,' she reminded herself, the guilt sweeping in.

Just over the eery lullaby of the night, her ears pricked at a flash of voice. It thundered a second time, and she hurried to the cave opening, peeking inside just in time to see the ground split, sending the entire company spilling into the tunnel below. Their shouts echoed from the moutain's depths and her heart hammered in her ears. As the last disappeared from sight, her eyes stared blankly and her breath came in short, terrified rasps. It felt like ages before the ground groaned and the slats began to slowly rise. The disappearing tunnel jolted her to action and she slid across the nearest piece, thanking the Vala when the rock dropped just a fraction in surprise at her sudden weight. At the edge, she clasped the ridge, attempting to lower herself more gently than the dwarves had experienced the pleasure of.

'Oh, by the heavens,' she squeezed her eyes shut. 'On the count of three.' The stone beneath her creaked and lifted, her fingers inching steadily closer to being crushed. 'Three,' Eda forced every ounce of willpower into her grip, letting herself drop into the tunnel.

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><p>Leave a though!<p> 


	19. Descent

Woo. Fighting.

Disclaimer: Still not mine. I checked.

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><p>For the ability to have a semblance of wits and awareness as she tumbled down the tunnel, Eda was grateful for her prepared drop. That didn't keep the curses and sourness from her mouth as her body fell like a child's doll. The tunnel twisted and careened, rocks snapping at her skin and dragging the mountain's thousand teeth through her skin and clothing.<p>

Her eyes caught on a slopped ledge jutting from the wall. A protrouding boulder clipped her elbow, sending her toppling to her side, and she made a split deicision, turning and feeling herself give way to the roll. The tunnel bit at her, but she felt the ground slope and scrapped her fingernails and every ounce of energy into an abrupt stop, Her thighs rested on the curve while her upper body dangled precariously, her hair a mess of tangles as she tried to see below. Voices and shrieks rose up enough to tell her it was close, and she dragged herself to her feet. Beneath her shoes, the precarious outcropping chipped, and her heart thrummed eratically to her shaking breaths.

At the next curve of rock, she spied another outpost, almost sleeker than the rest, likely used to funnel and direct the occupants into a general direction. From her finger-tips to her shoulders, she shook but her feet stepped back the one pace comfortably possible before running at the curve. The opposite wall careened at her, and she couldn't contain the scream. A second later and her arms attempted to cushion the blow as she struck into the wall and started tumbling down.

Somewhere in her rattled, hazy thoughts, she knew she should tried to grab the ledge, but her limbs didn't seem to move any more—or they did and she had lost the ability to feel them. The woman thanked whomever her brain could conjur for her descent was slow, and she felt blood tickling the skin beneath her nose as she came to a stop. Gingerly, the woman rolled to her side and pushed herself on her arms to peer down.

Just below her, the tunnel opened like a mouth above a circular cage. Shrieks and shouts reverberated and banged on her ears. Eda could see the dwarves relentlessly fighting against the currents of goblins as they were shoved across the planks and further into the mountain depths. And just like that, the crowd was dissipating from view. It was then that she noticed the crouched figure.

'Bilbo,' she nearly breathed out the name and hastily pushed herself to stand. If he was free, somehow—whatever he'd done—then surely they could come up with a plan to get the dwarves. Excitement lit in her chest and she looked from left to right, searching for a way down to join him. The cage rested in her view, and she took a deep inhale before letting herself topple off the ledge.

Her first thoughts upon impact sprang of curses and self-insults. Her ankle twisted beneath her, sending her sprawling to the side. Breaths came in short and focused as she tried to block the pain, but her eyes shot open when she heard a screech and metal on metal.

"Bilbo!" She scrambled to her feet, grasping the ropes of the cage to pull her along while her one ankle hovered over the ground. A flash of pale blue punctuated the dark cavern, guiding her eyes to widen and her heart to seize as she caught sight of Bilbo fending off a goblin. Saving her ankle surrendered to the need for use, and she managed a hobbling run across the planks towards the hobbit. His cry pierced out, the goblin riding his back, and Eda broke to a limping run.

"Bilbo!" She dove forward as he toppled over the cliff. Empty air filled her hand, and her chest spasmed in horror as the hobbit disappeared into the darkness.

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><p>"Bilbo!" Her shriek echoed in the depths, and echoed clanged back. Emptiness echoed with only her voice, mutiliated in the mountain halls. Only her voice. The air came down in clumps like coagulated blood, filling her chest with a dead weight. 'I lost him,' the darkness nibbled at her hand as it continued to hang in an empty plead. One hand clamped on the rickety wooden planks, and she could feel them grumble under her precarious lean. A screech cut up the air, but it wasn't the sound she had ever hoped for in her life, and she threw herself away from the cavern. Pressed against the wall, her mind tried to locate the source—for it had certainly not come from below.<p>

'What do I do?' Her hands shook and grabbed her cloak, pulling the fabric tight against her shoulders and pressing it to her face. A dry sob choked her throat. 'A single thief against all of them…I can't do this alone.' For a moment, she thought of following the hobbit down. Maybe he was alive. The darkness gaped at her with a wide, toothless malice, and she shivered.

Another shout like grating metals, sharp and cringe-worthy, and she heard a chorus of screams that chilled the blood. 'I've lost one,' she rubbed the palms of her hands into her eyes as if to wipe out the weakness. 'I can't lose more.' A shakey hand took out the dagger from her belt. 'Of course, I have this meager thing.' A pat across her clothing, however, let her fingers ghost the twine and hunting odds cozy in pockets. She managed a feeble grin, 'Can't hurt, I suppose.'

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><p>She hobbled across the planks, ears perked to the growing rucus. A drumbeat had started up somewhere, prompting her to push the limits of her ankle in a quick pace. The goblins, for the most part, had abandoned the outer planks of the settlement for whatever was happening in the center, and she had managed to avoid the few stragglers; their persistent noise and contemptuous distraction with each other had let her slip through the shadows without notice. 'Hunter stealth has yet another advantage,' she thought proudly.<p>

It wasn't until she could see the main platform, complete with a crowned, glutunous heap of offense to nature, that a goblin noticed her presence. The curse she let fly was covered by his discordant cry as he charged at her, arm raised high to bring the crude sword down on her head. In a split second, she threw her dagger, the blade imbedding in his throat and halting the goblin in his tracks. As he started to careen to the ground, she pulled harshly on the twine in her left hand. The dagger wrenched out of the flesh with a firework of blood. 'Not so bad,' she kept the congratulations to herself as she took a step to collect the weapon from where it had landed two paces in front of her.

No sooner had she taken a step than she heard a murderous shriek; she'd been seen. A goblin was barreling down the planks, an her stomach dropped when she realized his enraged charge had attracted the attention of several others. She hopped forward, grabbed the dagger and let it fly again once the first goblin ran into range. It landed in his chest with a dull thud and she wrenched on the twine to rip it out. He fell to the side, the wound gapping from the knife's abrupt and coarse exit. 'The others, though…' she couldn't stop them all before they got to her. Not this way. She jerked the twine enough to lift the blade from the ground and raised her hand above her head. In a second, she had the blade spinning like a radius around her, slicing through the first two goblins at the neck. The others ducked and ran, to find she had dropped herself low and cut through their bellies in quick succession.

Unfortunately, it was short-lived when a goblin slammed his sword in first to cut the twine. It didn't snap, but the dagger pivoted and wrapped neatly around his blade. She swore, took the twine in both hands and yanked with all her might. The sword sprang from the goblin's loose grip, but the friction snapped the twine over his blade's jagged ends, and the dagger fell to the ground equal paces from both parties. The sound of their excitement would haunt her nightmares, and she dove for the weapon. They lept, and her hand grabbed the crusted hilt of the goblin sword first. She shot it up, skewering the first creature. Only the thought of her feet filled her mind, and she tried to get them beneath her. Her other hand clasped the hilt of her dagger, and she swung it wildly at anything near.

It was like trying to strike waterdrops beneath a waterfall; she could feel herself falling backwards under the onslaught of their attacks. Something struck her hand, and she cursed as she lost the goblin sword. Switching hands, she felt the twine still twisted around her left hand, and grabbed a loose end in her right hand. She blindly wrapped it around the nearest goblin's neck and pulled. The goblin's pulse throbbed the thin metal but the skin gave way like slicing a flank of meat. Before she could go again, however, something struck her hard on the back of the head, and she faintly recalled the scream tearing her throat as something clamped in painful points upon her shoulder.

Her dagger and twine disappeared, and her vision blurred the nightmare of greedy, vicious goblin sneers.

"Take her to the others!" Her ankle gave out, and she spilled on the wooden planks, but they continued to shove her down the path. The drumbeats thundered, and her mind began to decipher words. Somewhere—more near than she would ever want—someone was chanting a song of tortures and death. The voice cracked like the molded wood beneath their feet, but it silenced when someone shoved her onto the platform. She could smell him even with her eyes closed, and she steadied herself on her hands and knees, hiding the world with her hair as if it was a curtain to deny the world. Murmurs arose from her right that she could hear familiar voices. They drowned out to the floorboards groaning and dipping under a moving weight.

"A woman?" The voice grated on her ears, and she prayed for something, anything to make things better. What felt like a fat boulder knocked her shoulder, and she fell on her rear. Her eyes instinctively raised, and she regretted the action. The goblin king stared at her, his face almost an arm's length from her. Every jostling scar and gelatinous pouch of skin was in harshly clear view, and it felt like her whole chest shook with dread.

"Caught her trying to sneak in, your malevolence," said a smaller goblin.

"Oh, really?" The king stepped away and fixed his view behind her. She tried to turn her head, but the movement sent a spasm of pain in her shoulder. A hesitant glance confirmed her fear: the bloody bite of an unknown goblin shone through the torn fabric. 'Great. A souvenir,' She pressed herself to standing.

"How peculiar to have so many _guests_ in one evening. It couldn't be that Thorin Oakensheild travels with a human, now could it?" The goblin king's face jostled with a sneer. The dwarves stood still and silent. With a disgruntled growl, he turned to her, poking her in the chest with his staff.

"Why are you here?" He grinned maliciously. "Speak, and I'll let you live." Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and her body chilled. 'I'm going to die here?' Somehow she had known it was a possibility, but hearing it, hearing someone say his decision at that moment would hold her fate….Without thinking, she twisted over her good shoulder and looked at the company behind her. Would she die for them? Thorin's eyes steeled upon her, and again she felt his expression closed to a code she would never learn to break.

But it was something behind him that caught her attention next. Kili's eyes had fixated on her with a singular intensity, and, unlike that of his uncle, his expression read plain and clear. A pang shot through her heart at the silent plead. He thought she still could—still would—turn them over; he was begging her to not. She turned away with a simmering frustration and pain. Did he still think her less than him? Did he still believe she was some heartless vagabond? The insult, the pain, from their earlier conversation sprang up. 'Always looking down,' it sounded bitter and sad even silent in her thoughts. Despite the bitterness, she could feel the flicker of desire to prove it to him, just as she had found in herself as she sulked alone in the rain.

"You're not a soldier," the goblin king yanked her from her thoughts. "You had only this to fight." Her dagger hopped in his hand like a cricket. "You don't owe them any loyalty. You're not even a dwarf or a man. Just a woman." Her eyes snapped up to his face, and her fingers curled into fists. "Save yourself. Speak!"

Her voice came out with surprising force when she told him exactly where he could stick his offer. The goblins broke into riotous fury, and the king sent her skidding back with a thunderous clash of his staff to her chest.

"If you are so foolish, then you can be the first! We'll rip that tongue right out of your skull!" His meaty hands rose in the air and the chorus of torture rang through the cavern. The words of breaking bones dulled as Eda focused on trying to inhale. The dwarves had hurried to help her to her feet and into the group. No one said a word of what had happened, but she felt a hand on her side, steadying her as she leaned forward and tried to breathe.

"You look like a mess," Kili's voice murmured, and she could feel a hand gingerly prying at the torn cloth at her shoulder. Standing up, she felt her own lips manage a weak smile at the concern in his eyes.

"And now you know why I didn't take on the trolls," she jested. He held her arm carefully as she hopped on her good foot to regain her balance.

"I take it you didn't go find Gandalf before coming to find us," he returned with a weak, but genuine smile.

"There's simply no pleasing you," her voice drained when her eyes caught on the contraptions slowly, steadily marching through the hoards. It felt like ice dropped down her chest, but she felt a warm hand take hers. Another hand landed on her good shoulder and she turned to see Fili gazing softly at her.

"We'll figure something out," he whispered, though the expressions of the other dwarves spoke little of hope. Only determination they would all face the same tortures and try to survive together. Her knees suddenly felt like twigs trying to hold up an old oak tree, and she wanted to simply collapse through the floor. Her eyes couldn't move from the devices and their approach.

"Eda," Kili whispered and tugged gently on her hand. Wide eyes snapped to him, brimming with a heaving terror. He wanted to tell her to not look, that she would see and know enough of them soon enough, but the glaze of fear and her shaking hand in his kept the words deep and unspoken. Instead, he forced a smile and muttered, "Know any good stories?" Her shoulders spasmed as if tossed under an ice bath, but he caught a glimpse of incredulous laughter. "There was one I just heard. But it's so strange for me." He could tell her thoughts weren't entirely on him even if her eyes were consuming the details of his cloak's clasp.

Grimy hands started to push in on the dwarves for the goblins had taken to shoving and searching them, yanking at their clothes in the wild excitement of the torture to come. He grimaced and shoved back against the forces, his fellow dwarves doing much the same. Her hand tightened on his when a goblin started pulling at her cloak, searing the fabric tight against her throat. He tried to reach around for the offender but stopped when her elbow shot past him and backwards to land a satisfying crack in the goblin's face. The hold disappeared and her free hand massaged at her throat.

"I've always heard stories of great princes and irredeemable ruffians," Kili continued in a most stubborn fashion. That got her attention. "Yet in this story, the thief was—"

A hoarse yell and clattering metal broke in, and Kili just registered the goblin king shouting something about his uncle's sword. Next came the call for death, and the goblins lept forth with heavy blows and eager whips. Eda cried out as a goblin lunged, latching onto her shoulder and dragging her to the ground with a fistful of her hair in his hand. Her fists met his misshapen face multiple times before he let go and slumped into unconsciousness. Beside her, Kili had fallen under the weight of the whips from several gleeful goblins, and she could hear Fili yelling his brother's name. His golden hair peeked out from his own battle. So close and yet so far from each other.

A searing scream tore through her ankle as she pushed off it, diving below a charging goblin and landing heavily on her shoulder. Curses flew freely at the spring of pain but her fingers rushed to unclasp her cloak. The fabric undone, she wrapped it in a loose circle around three goblins' feet and raised to her knees, bringing the cloak into the air. In their fervor of whips and screams, the goblins never noticed the woman until the cloak ripped backwards, towing against their kneecaps and sending them crashing into the ground. Eda had barely time to duck as their feet flew in the air, and grimaced as the heel of one foot caught her forehead just above the eye. The frustration was short-lived, however, as a blast of white light stormed the air, knocking her and everyone else against the ground in a blind stupor.

As swiftly as it had come, it disappeared, leaving a thick blanket of darkness and eery silence. Slowly the fires came back, and Eda groaned with the multitude. She heard the call to fight, and the sudden wave of battle cries. With the goblins dazed, they made quick work of fighting to their feet. Someone reached the cache of weapons, and swiftly, the dwarves were armed. Eda felt uncommonly ill-prepared, realizing her own weapon had disappeared.

"Stay with me, lass," Bofur murmured. "We got ya." His axe raised and swung deftly into a goblin's skull. The woman grabbed the sword from the dwarf's victim and tried to keep up despite her mismatched gait. The goblins poured in from every side, spilling out of the mountain like ants. Disgusting, malformed, vicious ants. The sword in her hands was heavy, crude and unbalanced and only broad, lucky swings had any success. Unfortunately, such swings nearly threw her off-balance, and her body had no shortage of complaints. She tried her best to stay close to Bofur, who wielded his axe with a formidable precision she would not have expected from a toy-maker. The guttural screams behind her worked well to keep her past fast and her heart palpably faster still. The dwarves split between two levels, and she saw a chance. Just a second's pause was enough to distance herself from the end of the dwarf company, and she took a heavy swing at the wooden post. The ropes snapped as the sword embedded itself in the wood, and the structure toppled to the side, spilling goblins into the cavern like raindrops. The boards beneath her feet twisted and cracked, and she took hobbling steps away, her breathing suddenly erratic as the wooden beams twisted under the weight of the collapsing floor above. Arrows shot past her, and she turned and ran without a pain in her ankle while the boards curled, creaked and suddenly snapped, tumbling into the darkness. That same adhrenaline kept her running until she caught up to the dwarves.

"Thought we'd lost you," Bofur shouted. A goblin skull cleaved in two under his axe, and Eda yanked the creature's sword from its grasp before it fell off the platform. She ducked the swing of another, and Bofur properly took away its head. Just ahead, Kili had grabbed a ladder, and Bofur rushed to help. It slammed neatly upon goblin shoulders and Eda hurried after them. Suddenly the creatures dropped from view, and the dwarves let the ladder fall into place like a bridge over an empty casm. Before she could finish processing her own terror at the idea, they had nearly all crossed over, leaving her to desperately stumble her way across. Fili grabbed her arm and pulled her the rest of the way before the ladder was kicked free.

Air felt insufficient to the heaving in her chest and exhaustion in her bones. Just as she worried it couldn't get worse, something cut and the planks beneath her started to swing in the air. Distantly, she heard someone yell to jump, and Bofur grabbed her arm before she could even protest. Next she was flying through the air and landing hard on her knees. Her entire body simply wanted to fall to the side and give in, but she could feel Bofur's hand on her arm pulling her to her feet and onward.

"Almost there," he said in a hushed tone.

"Where is 'there'?" She couldn't help but reply. Her arms loathed the goblin sword but she swung it anyway, wide, chaotic strokes. While her body weight pivoted and guided the sword, her teeth ground, and her thoughts tried to stay on this mythical 'there.' It sounded like fantasy, that there existed such a place outside this cave of endless wooden roads and ferocious foes. 'If I get 'there,'' she swore, 'I am leaving this company.' Her sword struck deep in a wide gash across a goblin's chest, and she could feel the dark blood splatter across her clothes.

And suddenly, it all stopped to the command of a wooden cacophony; the goblin king stood in their path. The sword weighed upon her arms, and she held feebly to the hilt as the end hit the ground. 'There is no escape.' Her chest heaved in deep, despairing inhales. The goblins had ceased to attack but she could hear them collecting on the fringes, just waiting for permission. Either exhaustion or panic—or likely both—racked her body.

"You thought you could escape me," the goblin King bellowed. Animal skull cracked on the wood from the king's strike. "What are you gonna do now, wizard?" A second later, and she heard yelps. Gandalf's blade cut clean through the goblin king, and the wood beneath their feet trembled.

Her heart clawed out her chest and up her throat; the platform gave way, and their screams echoed the descent into darkess.

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><p>Have a thought? Always happy to hear. :)<p>

Thanks for reading.


	20. Bilbo's Tale

I am going off the grid for a few weeks. My last month of China has me traveling to see friends in their villages (no internets) before I return to the states-at which point I have a succession of three weddings in three weeks in three separate states. So, I am glad that I got to this last chapter but I may disappear for a month or so. I apologize in advance, but I hope you don't mind waiting. :) Only done with the first movie, after all, and there's a lot left to cover and unravel.

Thanks!

Took a different approach to this part. Leave an opinion if you have one. :)

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><p>The creature skidded to his knees with a rasping desperation in his voice. The chants and pleads for the precious had already become a familiar symphony to the hobbit. Sunlight slipped over Gollum's pale form like beads off a mallard's feathers, the creature's skin tight across his bones. Bilbo crept forward silently. Gollum let out an abrupt yelp and darted behind a boulder, and Bilbo had hardly second to wonder why before a familiar hooded figure ran into view. Gandalf. A ghost of excitement escaped his lips and he took eager, desperate steps closer only to stop and raise his hands in frustration. Surely any call would get the wizard's attention, but it would also draw Gollum, a creature he had no interest in fighting—whether he had the advantage of invisibility or not.<p>

The hobbit watched in distress as the dwarves ran past his view and out into the sunshine. He was so close….and yet his heart twisted and his face contorted with the agony of his position: stuck, pressed in by this creature. The seconds ticked away in the wake of their disappearance, and he felt his nerves wratcheting from frustration. He couldn't just let them go without him…Even if Thorin didn't want him in the company, he couldn't stay hidden, too cowardly to even follow. For what would he think upon returning home? Surely his books would yet lie untouched and his pantry still as empty as the dwarves had left it. The grass would be green, and the people simple. It would be safe. He could nestle in his favourite chair, surrounded by his favourite things, and be at home. Yes, that was possible if only he could make it outside. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his blade.

The words of home rung in his ears, and he remembered echoes of his harsh words just before the floor gave way. Was he to leave them to face the perils without him? Thorin had made it clear of his thoughts for the hobbit, that he did not belong and was often more of a burden than an aid. But Bofur had called him a part of the company, and he knew the other dwarves cared—in some measure or another. Even if they didn't, he hoped for a home for all of them—even if it was simply because he knew the intimate pleasures of having one. His thoughts paused around a single realization: was he to give up on them just to return to a quiet life, tucked away from the difficulties of the outside world? After all, something had pushed him out his door, and it must still be somewhere in him. But what would it take to escape? His eyes fell on the creature still hiding against the stone. The sword lifted in his hand, and he easily covered the paces to reach Gollum. He took silent, heavy breaths as the weight of the sword grew in his hand.

'Enough to take a life,' he thought to himself. Before him, Gollum turned slowly, his skeletal hands splayed out on the rock and his eyes wide and stunned. Bilbo lowered the sword near the creature's neck and tried to ignore the tremor in his hand. Pulling back to strike, the hobbit tried to close his eyes but found them determined to stay open. In the second he had taken to prepare, Gollum had turned, and Bilbo felt his resolve crack at the pitiful existence before him. Gollum's round eyes rested atop gaunt cheekbones. Bilbo tried yet again to level the sword and pull back a swing, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the expression on his face. His eyebrows had furrowed and his lip quivered as if he was about to cry.

What existed in this creature that he deserved to die? Bilbo's arm lowered as realization painted his face. More so, how could he be judged for what pitiful circumstances he had ended in? The hobbit's memory tossed forth words from Gandalf. No, Bilbo decided. His sword would not take life so freely. He would not.

That did not mean, however, that he would simply stay there. He took several steps back, and his lips set in a determined line. As if hearing something in the air, Gollum's face contorted to angered suspicion. Bilbo had but a second to see it before he ran and lept, one foot knocking the creature to the ground before he landed in the hall and ran for the sun. Behind him, he could hear the furious growls and shrieks of Gollum, but he never looked back.

Twigs snapped and dried needles padded beneath the hobbit in his scurry down the hill. Between the pines, he caught flashes of coloured cloaks and pushed further and faster down. The company stilled, and Bilbo felt a swell of joy and relief. Dwalin's voice reached him, causing his steps to slow while his lungs collected air into every exhausted chasm. Following quickly on the steps of Dori's indignantion, Gandalf spoke, "Where did you last see him?"

Bilbo walked towards the dwarves, his eyes covering each as much as he could between the trees. A surge of relief swept through when he realized everyone was accounted for—with the exception of hisself—and, but for Eda's tattered appearance, they appeared unharmed. He heard Nori speak up, followed by Gandalf's urgent demand for more answers when Thorin broke in.

"I'll tell you what happened. Master Baggins saw his chance, and he took it. He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door. We will not be seeing our hobbit again." During the dwarf King's tirade, Bilbo had turned away and leaned against a tree, his mind a race of frustration, disappointment and second guesses. Nothing would ever sway that dwarf's mind, and Bilbo wondered if it was really all so worth his life to help such a person. "He is long gone." Silence hung heavy after Thorin's words, and Bilbo couldn't hold in his frustration. Surely they couldn't all feel this way? Determination simmered and his eyesbrows knit. He would prove himself if it came to that. Bilbo Baggins was no coward.

The ring slipped from his finger and he stepped out. "No, he isn't." He couldn't yet ease the tension from his face despite the excited murmurs from the group. Gandalf nearly laughed out his name, but Bilbo's eyes stayed low. Already, he could feel the weight of Thorin's attention upon him, and he attempted to escape by walking towards his friend. The happiness in Kili's voice lifted the hobbit's spirits ever so slightly, and Fili asked the question surely on everyone's mind, "How on earth did you get past the goblins?" The slow suspicion in Dwalin's voice was not lost on him, and he shifted on his feet, feeling unexpectedly uncertain. What would they say if they knew what had happened in the caves? Of his ring? He glanced around and found every face watching expectantly with the exception of one. Eda was sitting on a boulder, hunched over, meticulously wrapping a piece of cloth around her ankle and deliberately avoiding his eyes. 'Does she know something?' He felt an uneasy pinch in his gut and laughed shortly to cover the rush of slipping his ring into his pocket.

"Well, what does it matter? He's back," said Gandalf. The wizard looked to Thorin, but it was easily read that the dwarf disagreed.

"It matters. I want to know. Why did you come back?"

Bilbo knew his face betrayed some of his frustration. "I know you doubt me. I know, I know you always have." He glanced over the collection and took solace in the softer expressions. " You're right, I often think of Bag End." He shrugged. "I miss my books. And my armchair, my garden. See, that's where I belong. That's home." His mind hadn't quite thought of its route, but it suddenly became clear, so wonderfully clear. His voice was simple and honest, carrying all his hopes to finally explain himself to the dwarf. "That's why I came back. 'Cause, you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if i can."

Thorin dipped his head, and Bilbo felt oddly comforted by the expression on his face. So commonly stoic, it had taken a shade of understanding and appreciation. Bilbo shifted again on his feet, and his eyes drifted back to the woman. She had ceased her efforts to braid her hair into control; however, she dropped her head the second their eyes met. It perturbed the hobbit. While they weren't the closest of companions, she had never avoided his attention before, and it set him ill at ease to think she was hiding something. Was it something about his ring? The golden band weighed like a whispered secret in his pocket, and his forefinger absentmindedly stroked the cool metal.

Rumbles in an abrasive language and hungry growls thrashed the silence. Already, Bilbo could hear the warg snarls coming in an avalanche down the mountain.

"Out of the frying pan," whispered Thorin. The company tensed, and all eyes darted around the wood.

"And into the fire," finished the wizard. "Run. Run!" Not a body needed a second telling. Howls rang out behind them. The sunlight disappeared behind the range, plunging them into an icy darkness. Just as he ducked under a boulder, a warg lept overhead, skidding to a stop before him and turning feral eyes upon him. It lunged, and Bilbo hastily drew his sword. With a thud, the warg collided with him, the sword barely out of the hilt only to be plunged into the animal's skull. It collapsed and Bilbo numbly let the hilt fall from his fingers. Dwarves raced past him on both sides, making quick and violent work of the wargs.

"Come on." He heard a breathless voice to his side and a hand grab his arm. Eda was pulling him forward. His feet dug into the ground. "Bilbo, come on!" Her voice raised in earnest, and he felt her fingers tighten on his arm. In the pale light, the wash of blood dried beneath her nose, her tattered appearance and desperate eyes gave her the appearance of a vengeful spirit.

"M-my sword," he managed to sputter, pointing at the weapon buried deep in warg.

"All of you, climb!" His eyes lifted to see Gandalf pointing at the pines standing tall over the cliff. Eda yanked on his arm, and for a second, thoughts of his sword disappeared. The flash of moonlight on the hilt caught his eye, and he was jerked backwards.

"Bilbo!" Eda's voice was shrill. Bilbo gripped the sword with both hands and pulled. "Let it go!" The woman took several steps away when Thorin's voice rang out a warning.

"Eda, Bilbo, get in the trees!" Fili's voice reached them.

"Eda, now!" Kili followed, his voice high and sharp. Bilbo thought she had agreed until he felt arms wrap around his stomach and pull. He already could feel the sword sliding out, but the added force wrenched it free.

"Tree." Eda let go and ran for a tree so quickly Bilbo had a second of blind confusion at the empty grounds.

"Bilbo!" Kili shouted. The sight of wargs racing down the mountain slope knocked him into life, and he scrambled up the branches of the nearest tree. Dwarves yelled and shouted as the wargs swarmed the ground below. A second moon appeared atop a boulder, a grotesque, snarling moon of scared white skin and snarling fur. 'A pale orc,' Bilbo needn't hear the whispers of a name to understand what creature had risen from the dead before them: Azog.

The creature snarled a smile, and black speech fell from between his jagged teeth. Thorin's name struck out, and Bilbo turned in his tree, his eyes searching for the dwarf. His chest hammered anxiously; what could Thorin be thinking at this very moment? To find the very enemy of his line, long-believed dead, to yet be the one hunting them. He had little time to think on it before the wargs broke an assault upon the trees. Leaping and snapping, clawing and vaulting amongst the branches, they broke branches from the trunk like he could twist the stem from an apple.

The company pushed ever higher into the treetops and clutched to the branches as the wargs shook the trees. Bilbo felt his stomach drop out the soles of his feet when the trunk began to sway precariously. The air rushed past, and he turned on trembling feet to see a tree rushing at them.

"Jump!" He did so and collided heavily with a tree branch. His fingers dug into the bark, and every ounce of hisself went into pulling himself up and away from the snapping jaws. That tree gave way, and Bilbo could barely keep up as they jumped from one tree to the next. They dove for the last tree. Lying on his stomach, Bilbo could see on the jagged ground ever so barely beneath them. And below that, a gulf. Bilbo hugged the tree trunk and stood. The wargs had eased their attack—likely for interests of self-preservation. Yet it did nothing to help his nerves or the chilled dread in his chest. They were stuck. 'How will we ever get out of this?' His thoughts cut short as a burst of fire shot past him. Gandalf had made something of fire above, and he could see flashes of fire dropping through the ranks. Pine cones. Fili caught the first, and Bilbo rushed to him with his own pine cone. It set ablaze, and the hobbit let it fly. Beneath them, the ground awoke in a thick blaze. Wargs ran off, and the pale orc screamed. The dwarves returned the shout with their own cries of victory.

Bilbo had begun to laugh with the others when the tree dipped and tilted. The company turned from careful perches to hanging desperately to their branches; the drop gaped below them. Ori and Dori cried out. A branch snapped somewhere, and Eda shrieked. He pushed himself up and tried to look around. Gandalf's staff hung low and heavy. He could see two forms hanging from the end. Kili had reached across the trunk to grasp Eda's forearm. Bilbo could see the fractured branch beneath her and her uncertainty it would hold much longer. A wave of movement turned his eyes. Thorin stood on the trunk, his sword drawn and his attention resting on Azog. The dwarf King broke into a run. The dwarf's battle cry cut short when the warg bounded off the rock and slammed into his chest. Thorin fell upon his back, and Bilbo could hear desperate shouts from the company.

"Thorin!" Dwalin bellowed over the sound of his leader's agonized yells. The dwarf tried to push against his perch but it gave way, dropping the warrior into a perilous hang.

Cries of the company rang in Bilbo's ears. Their pain and desperation. So close that they could watch their King die before them, yet unable to aid. Would it come to an end such as that for them? The warg roared, and Thorin flew through the air. Bilbo couldn't stop staring in disbelief. 'No, not like this.' An orc dismounted, and Bilbo felt a shot of indignantion. 'No, not like this.' Not when he had just seen a glimpse of kindness from Thorin, a semblance of understanding and the possibility of acceptance. He realized he was standing upon the tree trunk, not fully knowing when he had reached that point. He took several loud breaths and hastily drew his sword. It did little to calm his nerves or bring bravery, but he held it tightly. Thorin lay motionless on the stone slab, and the orc strode towards him, sword drawn. He couldn't wait any longer and shot himself off the tree.

His mind fixated on that one goal: stop the orc. Its blade held high, he tackled the creature from the side and sent both of them sprawling to the ground. It kicked him off, but his adhrenaline shot through and his arms thrust his sword swiftly and violently into the orc's chest. He stumbled to his feet. His veins felt like they could burst with the sheer force of his pumping heart, but he stayed. Azog glowered down at him, and the hobbit made broad, wild swings through the air.

More stalked forward. Dwalin's battle cry gave only a second's warning to the orcs before dwarves overran them with single-minded ferocity. Bilbo let out a shout and jumped forth. Blade met warg skull and flesh. He spun to find himself pressed against pale fur. Azog snarled, and Bilbo flew through the air. The pale orc crept closer, his eyes fixed on Bilbo. Fear and disgust tumulted his stomach. He stood between the orc and its prize, and yet he felt more confident in that decision than anything of the quest before. His mouth set a grim line across his face, and he refused to look away. 'I am not scared.'

Unfamiliar screeches rose in the night. Great birds burst from the darkness. One snatched a warg and rider from the pale orc's side and dropped the pair into the darkness. Bilbo's jaw couldn't drop far enough, and he struggled for air. Orcs disappeared from the beneath the dwarves' axes. And just like that, one such eagle swept in and gently clasped Thorin's limp form in its claws. Another eagle shot out of the shadows and Bilbo barely uttered a word of terrified protest before it carried him into the air. A second later, it let go and he screamed through the drop, only stopping when he hit a firm form of soft feathers. The eagles steadily and neatly plucked the company into the sky. The roar of Azog fell away to the darkness behind them.

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><p>"The Halfling?" Air charged the hobbit's body at the sound of Thorin's voice. From the second Fili had shouted the King's name, Bilbo had felt a stretching, twisting and constricting dread in his chest. What if Thorin would not survive? What if Bilbo had not moved fast enough? The thoughts thudded in his mind like immovable boulders. Once his feet touched the rock, he had hurried forward, anxiety spilling on his face. He heard Gandalf respond and let out great sighs of relief. Thorin staggered to his feet.<p>

"You." It was less than the tone Bilbo had hoped for or expected. "What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed. Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?" His shoulders slumped. No, nothing had changed. Disappointment choked him. He tried to swallow the bitterness but found it stubbornly clawing forth. "I have never been so wrong in all my life." Thorin stepped forward and hugged the hobbit tight. Relief washed through his small frame. "I am sorry I doubted you." Thorin's dark blue eyes rested upon him with a gentleness and sincerity.

"No, I would have doubted me too," insisted Bilbo. "I'm not a hero, or a warrior." He looked aside to Gandalf and added, "I'm not even a burglar." Thorin smiled, and Bilbo knew he would face another pack of orcs for the welcome in the single gesture. The eagles circled the peak before peeling away for the distance. When he looked back to Thorin's face, he found an dazed expression. Bilbo pivoted to find a solitary peak on the horizon.

"Is that what I think it is?" asked Bilbo. Slowly, as if in a trance, Thorin stepped to the end of the rock, his eyes never leaving the distance. He looked to Gandalf then followed Thorin to the edge.

"Erebor. The Lonely Moutain. The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of middle earth," Gandalf announced.

"Our home," said Thorin reverently.

Gloin spoke from behind them: "A raven. The birds are returning to the mountain." A small bird flitted through the air and out of sight, swallowed by the distance and bright, jeweled sky.

"That, my dear Gloin, is a thrush." Bilbo didn't let the wizard's technicalities distract. His chest felt light. He had come so far, found so much. All for stepping out his door in a wild chase for adventure.

"We'll take it as a sign. A good omen," said Thorin, and Bilbo looked to him to see a smile on his face. Finally, Bilbo had proven himself. Not only to the company but to himself. He had stood bravely, and he had fought. Better yet, he had found an adventure he believed in, that he wanted to see to the end. And with Thorin's new acceptance, the future radiated. The smile spread across his face.

"You're right. I do believe the worst is behind us."

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><p>:)<p> 


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